


Bad Idea

by patentpending



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Contracts, Crack Treated Seriously, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by Bad Idea from Waitress, M/M, Morally Neutral Deceit Sanders, More angst than anticipated, Secret Relationship, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21975340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patentpending/pseuds/patentpending
Summary: Roman and Deceit know this thing they've fallen into is a bad idea.  That's why they have rules.  Rules about feelings getting involved.  Rules about the other sides knowing.  Rules about taking care of Thomas.  Rules against falling in love.Or: the one where Roman and Deceit break all the rules.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Comments: 331
Kudos: 769





	1. hold me close while I think this through

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a drabble.  
> this was supposed to be a 2k song fic at most.  
> i have now written 14k and five full chapters of this monstrosity.  
> someone save me.
> 
> Anyway, HUGE note here: this has a LOT more sexual content than my usual stuff, although no actual smut, but it's definitely rated M for a reason. Proceed with caution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs: implied sexual content, nudity

“This is a bad idea,” Roman said. 

“I agree.” Deceit nodded seriously, usual silver tongue of lies put aside.

“I mean, you’re a dark side!”

“You’re a _light_ side.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement, then.”

“Right.”

A moment of silence.

“So are you going to stop trying to give me a hickey now?”

“Don’t know,” Roman hummed, nipping at the soft skin at the curve of Deceit’s neck. “I still need to think a few things through.”

“Ah,” Deceit said, many hands still unbuttoning Roman’s shirt. “Carry on then.”

  
  


“Like I was saying,” Roman continued, once they were boneless and sweaty and sprawled out on Deceit’s black silk sheets, “this is an awful idea, and we need to stop.”

Deceit grumbled, turning over and tucking his head into the curve of Roman’s shoulder. “You’re the best at pillow talk.”

Roman absentmindedly pressed a kiss into the other side’s hair, fingers dancing along the curve of his scaled hipbone. “Am I wrong?”

“Moral philosophy is strictly reserved for business hours,” Deceit yawned, flicking out his forked tongue. “You’ll have to submit your inquiry between nine and five tomorrow.”

“I’m serious, Dee!” Roman protested, pushing back and sitting up, sheets pooling around his waist. “This whole thing is an awful idea!”

“Wait, really?” Deceit sat in turn, mockingly throwing a hand over his mouth. “What a shock! I had no idea. Really, how could you say something? Patton and Virgil just _love_ me, and Remus would be _delighted_ with the whole situation. Darn, here I was thinking we were going to have a spring wedding.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Slow your roll, Dr. Trickle and Mr. Lied. We’re not even dating.”

“Rule number one: no feelings get involved,” Deceit hissed, flopping back onto his pillow. “Not like I was there when we signed the contract or anything.”

“Still don’t get why you insisted on that,” Roman huffed, letting the other side coax him back down.

“Society is built on lies, but this doesn’t have to be,” Deceit hummed, pulling at the other side until his back was pressed against Deceit’s chest.

Eventually, Deceit’s breaths evened out – slow, steady puffs of warm air hitting the back of Roman’s neck. Ever so slightly, he tightened his fingers around Deceit’s arm, slung over his chest.

“Yeah,” Roman said, softly, “but what _is_ this?”

  
  


_The Contract, as signed by Creativity “Roman” Sanders and Deceit “???” Sanders._

(“You’re going to have to put your name down, Salthazar S-lie-therin.”

“Fine.”

“What does that even say?! Ugh, is that an ‘E’ or an ‘L’?”

“Roman, let’s not be cruel. I know my name is unusual, but that’s no reason to poke fun.”

“You’re insufferable, do you know that?”

“Strange, the way you’ve got me pinned up against this table leads me to think otherwise.”)

_Rule Number One: no feelings shall get involved_

(“‘Shall’?” Deceit snorted. “I didn’t know we were plagiarizing the ten commandments.”

Roman glared at him and marked the word out.)

_Rule Number Two: no hinting to The Arrangement, letting the other sides know about The Arrangement, or ever speaking about The Arrangement in potentially unsafe territory_

(“Okay, Aziraphale.”

“You’re one to talk, Anthony Crow-lie.”)

_Rule Number Three: The Arrangement will not interfere with typical duties as sides or any decision-making involving Thomas_

(“Like you could distract me.”

“I’m sorry, whose tongue was down whose throat a second ago?”)

_Rule Number Four: no falling in love_

(“How is this different than number one, Jack the Fibber?”

“One encompasses all feelings – friendship, namely. Even if we aren’t in any danger of falling for each other, it’s worth the clarification.”

A snort. “You should’ve been a lawyer.”

“Don’t remind me.”)

_Rule Number Five: in the event of more than two of the above rules being broken, The Arrangement will be automatically terminated and all contact between the two parties involved will cease_

(“Finally, something we can agree on.”)

  
  


If pressed, Deceit could not tell you how The Arrangement had begun.

This is because Deceit is a filthy liar who does not want to admit how, exactly, he had reacted to being bested in a sword fight, or what noises he made when Roman pressed the tip of his sword to his neck.

If pressed, Roman could tell you how The Arrangement had begun.

This is because Roman is a fantastic storyteller who would fabricate something much more suave and smooth than what he had said, which was more of a ‘ngk’ than witty dialogue, and what he had done, which was staring at Deceit, wide-eyed for a second before kissing him.

If pressed, the narrator could tell you how The Arrangement had begun.

But, really, with two such reliable sources, why would you believe _her?_

  
  


“Oh my gosh!!!” Roman practically leapt over Logan, scrambling to talk to Thomas. “Write that down right now!”

“We are currently occupied.” Logan neatly dodged, ducking under Roman’s arm and continuing to tap at his communications pad. “This assignment is absolutely vital. If we want Thomas to have this cameo in a movie, as he so desires, we need to submit the necessary forms and documentation for his interview.”

“None of it is due until tomorrow,” Roman insisted. “We’ve got plenty of time, I swear!”

“Plenty of time?” Logan crossed his arms, eyebrows arched. “Plenty of time for Thomas to stay up late into the night, slaving away over a project he could’ve easily finished beforehand, wrecking his sleep schedule, all so he can write out some idea you can _easily_ remember later?”

“Yes!” Roman chirped, grabbing for the pad.

“Roman, surely you can wait an hour.” Logan danced backwards, still typing away.

“It’ll take five minutes!” Roman protested, making a final grab.

“Roman.” Logan leveled him with a look.

The creative side sighed, slumping down on the couch. “Fine.”

Logan came back to him, five hours later, rolling his shoulders and rubbing his eyes to edge out the exhaustion. “Do forgive me, Roman. I appear to have lost track of time.” He handed over the communication pad. “What was it you needed?”

Roman brightened up, tossing aside his sketch pad. His fingers rushed eagerly to tap out his idea, excitement of earlier fizzling back to him, but he paused.

Stopped.

“Funny,” he said, softly. “I don’t remember.”

  
  


“Glad you were on time to our meeting,” Deceit hissed, lounging in the doorway and examining the stitching of his gloves. “I’m always in awe of your perfect punctuality.”

Roman, huddled into a small, miserable lump under a blanket, curled into himself. “Go away, snake-face. Someone else could see.”

“Ooh, creative nickname.” Deceit prowled into the room, smoothing the door shut behind him. “You’re on a hot streak today, hm?”

Roman laughed bitterly, pressing his face into his pillow. “You heard?”

“Thomas had to lie about why he was getting so frustrated with himself,” the snake hissed, settling himself on the edge of Roman’s bed. “Letting our viewers know good ideas are slipping away would be _so_ wonderful for our branding.”

Roman huffed. “Tell me about it.”

“Come on,” Deceit purred, pressing himself against Roman’s back and laying a hand on the curve of his hip. “Let me cheer you up.”

Roman shrugged away. “Not in the mood.”

Deceit pulled back immediately, but arched an eyebrow when Roman didn’t do anything further, still just laying there. “Glad to see your spirits are buoyant as ever.”

“What do you care?” Roman snapped, dragging himself up and glaring at the other side. “Thomas just lost a fantastic idea for a novel we’ve been longing to write for _ages._ I’m trying to _wallow_ in my _misery_ here!”

“I don’t care,” Deceit said flatly, honestly. “I’m just curious.”

Roman blinked. “What?”

“Why didn’t you just insist on taking control from Logan?” Deceit tilted his head, serpentine.

“That would’ve been so selfish!” Roman sputtered. “Logan was doing something important to Thomas; I wasn’t about to disrespect his work like that!”

Deceit nodded slowly, processing. “So Logan is more important than you, is what you’re saying.”

“What? No!”

“Then why didn’t you assert yourself?” Deceit arched an eyebrow. “Roman, what is stopping you from just _taking_ what you want?”

“I… I don’t…” Roman shook his head, helplessly.

“Roman,” Deceit said, softer, leaning forward. “You _deserve_ what makes you happy.”

“Do I?” Roman asked. “What makes me more important? What puts _my_ priorities first? Sure, Thomas has been… putting me aside lately, but he’s busy!”

“But that’s just it! If you don’t put _yourself_ first, no one else is going to!” Deceit insisted, eyes intent. “You’ve got to look out for yourself.”

“Is that the world you think we live in?” Roman startled back. “Every guy, gal, and nonbinary pal for themself?”

Deceit shot him a droll look. “Oh, sorry, I missed the part where this is Utopia.”

“What about you, then?” Roman demanded, eyebrow raised. “You’re telling me you’ve _never_ been selfless?”

“I know I look like Patton, but that’s no reason to insult me.” Deceit snorted. “Of course I haven’t. I’m self-preservation. Why _wouldn’t_ I just take what I want?”

“Moral decency?”

“Don’t be crude.”

Roman couldn’t help his laugh. 

He was quiet for a moment after, jaw working but nothing coming out. “You really think so?” He finally said, so softly Deceit had to lean in to hear him.

“Really think moral decency is crude? Of course. You would not _believe_ the lies Patton is telling you about those messenger falcons–”

“What? No.” Roman paused, considered. “Although we’re circling back to that later.”

He smoothed his hair back, shifting to look Deceit fully in the face for the first time that day. “Do you really think I… deserve it? To get what I want?”

Even later, Deceit couldn’t quite describe what moved him to put his hand over Roman’s and squeeze gently. “I know you do.”

Something dropped onto Roman’s red bedspread, and they both startled when they realized the creative side was crying.

“Wait, no!” Deceit reeled back, mismatched eyes wide in panic. Something deep in his stomach twisted. “Fuck, you don’t deserve it! Wait, no, you do! I don’t know what you want me to say. Just please stop crying!”

Roman laughed, softly at first but then breaking into a full-bodied shake as he wiped at his eyes. “It’s okay, Lyin’ king. They’re happy tears, I think.”

“You think!?” Deceit cried, pressing a hand to his chest. “Seriously, Roman, I am not–” He caught himself and cleared his throat, straightened his back until he was prim and proper. “I’m obviously the one in the mindscape most qualified to deal with sudden emotions,” he drawled.

“Comes from repressing your own I see,” Roman chuckled, pressing the bases of his palms into his eyes.

“Takes one to know one,” Deceit quipped before his voice dropped down, turning hesitant. “Are you alri- are you done sulking?”

Roman shrugged, eyes still water-rimmed. “I think I just need to be alone for a minute.”

Deceit nodded shortly and made for the door. If there was one thing he had plenty of practice in, it was knowing when he wasn’t wanted.

“Hey, Jack Scale-ington,” Roman said, and Deceit turned.

The prince looked at him, lifting his tear-stained face, and, slowly, like the sun breaking through after a storm, smiled. “Thanks,” he said, simply.

“Don’t thank me.” Deceit snorted. “It was entirely selfish. I was getting sick of your incessant moping.”

Roman just smiled, eyes bright with something Deceit couldn’t name. “Of course,” he said, voice soft. “My mistake.”

~~Rule number one: no feelings get involved~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO-HOO!!! Oh my gosh, I am so excited to be sharing this with all of you, finally! Chapters one through five are completely written (and anywhere between 1-4k), and will be posted whenever I feel like it. Probably like every three days? Who knows what I'm up to.
> 
> I debated making this a SUPER long one-shot, like I normally do, but the narrative flow is such that there are really logical places to stop and make a new chapter, so I think it will be much more satisfying like this.
> 
> I've got stuff to do today, so I'll probably post to Tumblr later tonight, but the rebloggable version will be [here](https://impatentpending.tumblr.com/post/189893664660/bad-idea-chapter-one) when I do.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Thank you in advance for every single comment, bookmark, and kudo. I truly do treasure every single one.
> 
> that being said ROAST ME IF YOU SEE A TYPO, COWARDS
> 
> ily <3


	2. This Secret is Safe, No Reason to Throw it Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tws: implied sexual content, non-graphic nudity

So, they were kind of friends. That was alright! That wasn’t the end of the world.

The Arrangement would probably be benefited if they could actually stand each other’s company, anyway.

The only problem was that this friendship was slowly bleeding over into their typical dalliances. Deceit would show up at Roman’s door, eyes lidded, voice gentle and purring, only for Roman to grab his hand and pull him inside to get his opinion on a new script. Deceit stopped them mid-makeout to ask if Roman wanted to meet his snakes.

(Roman squinted. “Snakes or… ‘snakes’?”

Deceit rolled his eyes and gently coaxed Amoli and Tevatai out of their enclosure.)

Perhaps it was then, with Roman gently petting his precious babies, cooing gently as they slithered over him, clearly enamored, that Deceit first felt a strange sort of fluttering in his stomach.

It didn’t make any  _ sense. _ He and Roman had stuck their tongues down each other’s throats before. So why did he feel so flustered when Roman grabbed his hand, grinning, and pulled him along for another adventure in the imagination? Why did his heart stick in his throat when the other side brushed a piece of lint off of his shoulder? Why did he feel like he would burst out of his skin when Roman, almost shyly, tied a red ribbon embroidered with a golden snake around his wrist? Why was he breathless, not with lust, but with eager anticipation, when Roman leaned in to kiss him?

If only his heart would stop racing, his mind would stop running, his lips would stop smiling every time he saw the other side. If only–

“Oh, god damn it.” Deceit suddenly stopped pushing himself up against the other side, leaning back and staring at Roman.

It took Roman’s brain a second to kick into gear, to register Deceit had stopped moving. “Uh, Dee?” He blinked hazily at the other side. “Everything okay?”

Deceit stared at him through mismatched eyes, slowly darkening in horror. “I think I want to date you.”

“What?” Roman sputtered, reeling back. “I don’t– I– what?”

“I know,” the snake hissed, hiding his face with taloned fingers. “I just…” He broke off into hissing, slithering away from Roman, pulling himself to his feet.

“Hold on!” Roman rose after him. “Deceit, you can’t just drop something like that then run away!”

“Good thing I’m sauntering then.”

“Dee!” Roman held up an imploring hand. “Look, I’m sorry, but we just can’t.”

Deceit flinched back, jaw gritted and eyes locked onto the floor. “I know,” he hissed.

“It goes against all the rules. It would just make this whole thing even worse. I mean,” Roman babbled, fidgeting with his hands, “don’t get me wrong, even if I do like spending time with you, and I want to hold you, even if we aren’t doing anything, and I want to wake up next to you in the morning, and I think about you all the time when we aren’t together– oh, damn it.”

“You  _ do _ want to date me!” Deceit said, triumphantly.

“No!” Roman protested. “I don’t! That’s against the rules!”

“Not any written rule.”

“You know what I mean!” Roman’s shoulders slumped, a bitter twist taking over his mouth. “It isn’t allowed.”

“Is it? Rule number five, right? It only counts if we break a certain number of rules.” Deceit suddenly slipped into lawyer mode, presenting facts as if Roman was back in the judge’s stand. “The contract, as signed by Creativity ‘Roman’ Sanders and Deceit” – he made some sort of guttural hissing noise – “Sanders clearly postulates that contact is only to be terminated more than two rules are broken. If we can both agree that there are some sort of… emotions… involved here, then we can date with no issue, as long as we don’t violate any more rules”

“What was that?” Roman blinked.

Deceit shot him a droll look.  _ “Not _ a very clever argument.”

“No, I meant the…” Roman did his best to imitate the strange hissing.

“Clearly it’s how you pronounce my name the  _ human _ way.” Deceit rolled his eyes. 

“Snake name?” Roman muttered to himself before shaking his head. “I… so what you’re saying is that we can date, as long as it doesn’t affect Thomas?”

“So he  _ does _ have a short-term memory,” Deceit deadpanned. “Amazing.”

“What about rule number four?” Roman huffed, crossing his arms. “Did you forget about that one, Atti-hiss Finch?”

“‘No falling in love’?” Deceit quirked an eyebrow. “Please, Roman, I should hope you’d think I have more self-control than that.”

“Says the snake who can’t resist the urge to date me,” Roman shot back.

“Because you were totally in tune with your emotions this whole time.” Deceit drummed his taloned fingers against Roman’s dresser. “I can handle myself, if you think you can as well.”

Roman lidded his eyes. “I can handle you  _ plenty _ well, last time I checked.”

“Might want to double-check then,” Deceit deadpanned, then chuckled at Roman’s offended princey noises. “Teasing, teasing,” he clucked gently, reaching for Roman’s hand and squeezing it. “So…” For the first time, a note of apprehension crept into his voice, gaze dropping down and grip on Roman’s hand tightening. “The verdict, your honor?”

“I…” He shifted his hand in Deceit’s, slotting their fingers together. 

Something inside him marveled at how well they fit. He hadn’t meant to fall into this thing with Deceit, hadn’t meant to let the snake comfort him when he was crying, hold his hand through his exuberance, listen through his panic and his worry and his overflowing ideas. He hadn’t meant to let Deceit slither into his life, but now that he was here, Roman didn’t know if he could let him go.

“Well,” he said, slowly, “it doesn’t count if we don’t break the other rules, right?”

“How original.” Deceit rolled his eyes, trying and failing to hide his small, glowing smile. “Not like I was saying the same thing a minute ago.”

Roman scowled playfully. “Okay, you know what? I’m breaking up with you now.”

Deceit arched an eyebrow. “We’d have to be dating for you to do that.”

Roman threw up his hands. “Fine, I guess we’re dating then!”

“My evil scheme worked,” Deceit deadpanned.

“And now I’m breaking up with you!”

“Oh no. What a whirlwind of emotions.”

Roman stuck his nose in the air, satisfied, before a twinge hit his chest. He turned to the other side, eyebrows drawn together.

“And now…” He swallowed hard, taking a small step forward and tucking an errant curl beside the other side’s ear, cupping his face. “And now I’m asking if you’d like to date me again. Because I…” He half-smiled, small and sheepish. “I’d really like to date you, Deceit.”

“Oh,” Deceit said, eyes soft with something Roman didn’t dare name. “I…” He cleared his throat until his voice was quiet and rough, barren of silver lies. “Yes,” he said, laying his hand over Roman’s. “I would like that very much, Roman.”

Roman beamed. “Great.”

The other side quirked an eyebrow. “Cool.”

“Excellent.”

“Wonderful.”

“You know, we should really stop having important talks while naked.”

“Huh.” Deceit put his hands on his bare hips, looking back and forth between the two of them. “You might be right.”

  
  


“Would someone be so kind as to investigate the cause of my paramour’s distress?” Logan slid his glasses down his nose, squinting at the measuring cup in his hand. “Roman, he is your closest companion. You do it.”

“Noooooo,” Roman whined. “Last time Virgil was hissing for this long, he saw a suspicious leaf in the yard and wouldn’t stop glaring until I ran it through with my sword. Why can’t you do it, Hugh Jackman? He’s your boyfriend!”

“This operation of the chemical process is of the utmost import.”

“Lo, you’re just making pancakes.” Patton ducked under his arm, scowling when the logical side batted his hands away before Patton could drop chocolate chips in the batter.

“I am aware.” Logan pointedly slid the mixing bowl away from the other side. “Patton, I believe that as Virgil is your metaphorical ‘kiddo’, the task falls to you.”

Patton, thoroughly thwarted, sighed and trudged into the living room, only to draw up short. “Oh!”

“Hello to you too,” a familiar voice purred.

A jolt of adrenaline hit Roman like a punch to the chest.

He was on his feet and stumbling into the living room before he could think better of it, skidding to a halt in the middle of the room. Virgil was huddled on the table, teeth bared and hissing. Patton was to the side, a strained sort of smile fixed on his face.

And there, before him, stood Roman’s snakey charmer, leaning casually in the doorway as if his appearance was no more unusual than Virgil’s eyeshadow, although  _ leaning _ was hardly sufficient to describe what the snake did when adjacent to anything that could plausibly support his weight.

Vaguely, Roman wondered how it was possible to sprawl vertically, to lounge while standing up, to somehow give the impression that far fewer clothes were involved, even when swaddled from fingertips to toes.

Deceit smiled when he saw Roman, fangs glimmering dully in the light.

“What are you doing here, kiddo?” Patton finally managed.

“Now, now, Patton.” Deceit arched an eyebrow, sauntering forward into the room, heedless of how Virgil’s hissing intensified. “I appreciate your concern for my dietary habits, but I assure you, my digestive system is entirely human, not snake. I’ll have no problem eating.”

“Oh,” Patton said, blinking. “Oh. Um. Alright then.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Roman said, lowly, as Patton gently coaxed Virgil off of the table and into a chair.

Deceit flashed him that smirk. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“This– you–!” Resisting the urge to throw his hands in the air, Roman stalked over the table, flinging himself down next to Virgil.

“Big mood,” Virgil growled, arms crossed over his chest.

Roman, unsure how to express he was frustrated with the snake out of gay panic, not some mysterious grudge, made a vague noise of agreement.

“Our meal has been concocted and is now the ideal temperature for consumption,” Logan announced, walking in with a plate in each hand. “I suggest ingestion in a time range of ten to fifteen minutes, interspersed with–” He drew up short.

“Deceit,” he greeted. “A… pleasure to see you’re joining our meal.”

“Of course,” Deceit purred, pulling out the chair across from Roman. “I could hardly turn down such a kind invitation to dinner.”

“Dinner?” Patton grinned as Logan put the platters in the center of the table. “I hardly know’er!”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is breakfast.”

“Breakfast? I hardly know’er!”

“We didn’t expect to see you here, Dr. Faci-lier.” Roman’s voice didn’t waver, but something in his chest certainly jumped at the smirk the other side shot his way.

The red ribbon tied around his wrist, just peeking out from under his sleeve cuffs didn’t help anything either.

“Well, you can hardly blame me, can you?” Deceit got a plate and fork from the center, as cool as anything. “What with Remus hanging around you all the time, it gets a little quiet downstairs.”

“I can blame you for a lot,” Virgil hissed, ignoring Patton’s stricken look.

“Why, Virgil,” Deceit mock-gasped, “I’m sure you wouldn’t be accusing me of anything under _ handed, _ now would you?”

Roman felt something brush against his leg.

He coughed, nearly choked on his glass of milk.

“Roman?” Logan blinked. “Are you adequate?”

“You look a little flustered,” Deceit purred, those mismatched eyes searching his. “Is everything alright?”

“I…” Roman paused, wiped his mouth and felt a thrill rise in his stomach. Slowly, he shifted forward, letting his legs fall open. “Couldn’t be better.”

Deceit’s eyes glowed with satisfaction. “Ah. My mistake then.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Logan frowned, tilting his head. “Roman was clearly exhibiting signs of distress a moment ago.”

Roman huffed out a laugh. “I’m hardly a damsel in distress, Bill  _ dry _ the Science Guy.”

Logan made a small, unconvinced noise, but let it slide as Deceit drew him into a winding conversation about the historical accuracy of some movie or another. Any other time, Roman gladly would have chimed in with something about artistic license, but at the moment he was a bit… distracted.

He could feel five fingers dancing up his calf, slowly, teasingly, even as two of Deceit’s hands stood innocuously above the table, cutting up bits of pancake.

The table was large and circular, so Virgil, glowering into the middle distance and gripping his knife like he was considering using it, wasn’t at the right angle to see what was happening; nor was Patton, pensively breaking his food up into smaller and smaller bits without eating any.

The gloved hand trailed over his knee, fabric rubbing against fabric, and… stopped.

Roman fought to keep his face neutral, daring a glance out of the corner of his eye at Deceit, but the snake’s face was a mask of self-satisfaction, as always.

Roman shifted, trying to get it to do something,  _ anything, _ but the hand was stalwart, immovable, just rubbing gentle circles on his knee.

The prince half-picked at his food, half-talked at Patton, who just made small ‘hmm’s of confirmation, waiting for Deceit to do  _ something. _

He didn’t.

It wasn’t lewd, that was the thing. Roman could have handled it if it was just another one of Deceit’s ways of teasing him, like the flashes of skin when he adjusted his gloves or the low purr. But this was gentle, almost innocent, despite what Roman had first thought. It was as if Deceit just wanted to…  _ touch _ him, to hold tight to the secret thing between them, even around the other sides.

He put the clandestine nature of their dalliances to the test, infecting them with a sort of tenderness, a gentle sort of intimacy, so different from the purely physical displays of affection Roman had long since resigned himself to.

Strange as it was, Roman slowly realized that this, this hand on his knee below the table, this quiet touch, was Deceit’s way of being romantic, as best he could. It was a secret, one of the snake’s favorite things, tenderly cradled just between the two of them.

Slowly, Roman nudged his foot forward until it was resting against Deceit’s. The snake’s voice dropped, just for a second, covered by him popping a grape into his mouth before he kept bickering with Logan, something in his posture more relaxed than before.

A flush spread across Roman’s cheeks as Deceit squeezed his knee, briefly glancing at the prince and smiling – just the briefest drop from his typical smirk, but so genuine it made something in Roman’s chest twist. He let his gaze drop safely onto his plate, unsure what to do with the bubbles welling up in his stomach.

“-man? Roman?”

Roman snapped back into his surroundings, tearing his gaze away from his slowly congealing pancakes and towards Virgil. 

“Yes, my dark-ling?” He flashed a wavering grin.

“I asked if you wanted any bacon.” Virgil eyed him oddly, giving the plate in his hand a little shake.

“Oh.” Roman cleared his throat, trying to will away the flush on his cheeks. “I think I’m–” He gave a little yelp as Deceit suddenly pinched his leg. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the snake hide his grin under a yellow glove. “Good! I’m good. Totally fine.”

He kicked at Deceit, who didn’t even bother looking perturbed.

“You sure about that, kiddo?” Patton chimed in for nearly the first time that meal, looking up from where he was pensively pushing around bites of pancake with his fork. “You’re acting a bit odd.”

“Actually” – Roman subtly tapped the hand under the table, notifying it to withdraw – “I think something is wrong with the imagination,” he lied smoothly, biting back a grin when he saw a shiver run down Deceit’s spine. The snake was always saying Roman’s lies were  _ delicious _ . “Probably just a creative block somewhere. Shouldn’t take too long to deal with.”

The other sides called various farewells as Deceit just smirked, heated gaze locked onto Roman as he sank out.

“If we’re disbanding, I’ll take that as my cue,” Deceit drawled. Without Roman, there wasn’t much point in sticking around.

“Hey, Dee?” Patton’s soft voice interrupted the snake, an instant before he fully sank out.

Deceit stopped, slowly rising back up. “Uh… yes?”

“Oh, it’s just that, I, um…” Patton fidgeted, winding the strings of his cat hoodie around his fingers before he drew himself up, taking a deep breath. “You just said… so if it… er. If it really is so quiet downstairs, you…” He flashed a hesitant smile at the other side. “You can always join us for breakfast some other time.”

“What?” Virgil and Deceit said in unison.

“I…” Patton worried at his bottom lip. “I know we don’t always get along, and I certainly don’t approve of what you do, but… no one deserves to be lonely.”

Deceit didn’t respond for a long, long moment, and the other sides looked up to see him, mismatched eyes blazing, human half of his face scarlet, and hands clenched into fists.

“Deceit?” Logan blinked. “Are you quite–”

“I don’t need your  _ charity,”  _ he hissed.

“What?” Patton startled back. “Kiddo, that’s not what I–”

“No?” Deceit snarled. “‘Oh poor pathetic snake, all alone in the darkness. Even the fucking  _ bad _ creativity doesn’t want to be around him. No one does’.”

Virgil gritted his jaw, gaze falling into his lap.

“Well, newsflash, _ Padre,” _ the snake spat. “I can handle myself just fine.” His mouth twisted into a cruel smirk. “Someone’s been keeping me  _ plenty _ of company.”

Something slotted into place in Virgil’s mind. “Hold up,” he said, head snapping up, “are you saying–”

But the snake was already gone.

“What was that, starlight?” Logan asked, a small frown line appearing between his eyebrows.

Virgil’s leg bounced under the table. “Nothing.” His gaze drifted to Roman’s empty seat as his eyes narrowed. “Nothing important.”

~~_ Rule Number Two: no hinting to The Arrangement, letting the other sides know about The Arrangement, or ever speaking about The Arrangement in potentially unsafe territory _ ~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support so far! Chapter 6 is halfway done, and I'll be done with 7 sometime in the next week, hopefully, so expect an update relatively soon
> 
> Thank you all so much for all the comments, kudos, and bookmarks!
> 
> ROAST ME IF YOU SEE A TYPO


	3. What's Right for me is the Only Thing I've Never Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs: implied sexual content

Large hands grabbed Deceit’s hips as soon as the snake rose up in Roman’s room. “Acting like that then making me wait?” Roman growled into his ear. “You really are a tease.”

“So what if I am?” Deceit tried to purr, but his voice was still rough, scratchy with anger.

“Oh! Um…” Roman backed up, hands in the air, eyes immediately wide and guileless. “Sorry, was that not okay? Earlier you… and you always liked it when I called you that before so I just…”

“I’m peachy keen, alright?” Deceit grit out. “Now get over here and kiss me.”

“Uh…” Roman rocked on his heels. “You look like you’re five seconds away from snapping someone’s neck, so I think I will pass on that one.”

Deceit let his scowl flare up for a moment before he pushed it away, lowering his head and gazing up at Roman through his eyelashes. “A momentary lapse in mood,” he sighed, shifting and tilting so the long line of his neck was on display. “It was just difficul- strange being around those sides. I felt so…” He let his gloved hand stray to the laces of his shirt. _“Naked.”_

“An overall excellent performance,” Roman commented. “Inflection and body language was on point, but you did flub your line.“ He sighed, risking a step closer. “I can tell you’re upset, Lemony Snake-it.”

“Only that you aren’t all over me right now,” he hissed, an edge of annoyance snarling his typical purr.

“Yeah, you’re kinda just supporting my point here.”

“I’m trying to seduce you, damn it!” Deceit shouted.

“And I’m trying to have an open, honest conversation about your feelings, damn it!” Roman fired back.

“Take a moment to consider who you _aren’t_ talking to, Roman.” Deceit gestured to himself, an edge of exasperation in the sweep of his hands. “ _Surely_ honesty is a possibility with _me_ involved.”

“Oh, don’t give me that, Danny O-sin.” Roman rolled his eyes. “You can tell the truth whenever you feel like it.”

“And now is most _certainly_ one of those times,” Deceit fired back.

“Dee, I just want to help you.”

“I don’t need you taking care of me,” Deceit snapped. “I don’t need them doing it, I don’t need you doing it, and I certainly don’t need anyone’s pity.”

Roman startled back. “What?”

“Patton invited me to come back and have breakfast some other time, alright?” Deceit hissed. “Now, can we shut up and start kissing, _please?”_

Roman‘s brow furrowed. “That’s it? He just… invited you to hang out?”

“He invited me to be his charity case, to indulge his martyr complex.” Deceit felt his fangs pulsing in his mouth, elongating. “He invited me to beg at the table and let him feel good about himself for feeding me spare scraps of kindness.”

Roman softened, reaching out. “Dee, I don’t think that’s what he meant.”

“What else could it be?” Deceit shied away, throwing his hat down and gripping his hair. “Yes, Roman, they definitely want the _snake_ around. They want to make cheerful conversation with the embodiment of every ugly lie they’ve ever told. Oh, how silly of me to think otherwise!”

“Hey, stop that,” Roman said, gently untangling Deceit’s hands from his hair. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Of course I will.” Deceit tore himself away, baring his fangs. “It’s not like I’m _self-preservation_ or anything, Roman. Not like my whole _life’s purpose_ is to be selfish.”

“What part of letting others care for you isn’t selfish?” Roman fired back. “Seems like laying back and getting pampered fits right in with your aesthetic.”

“Because I can look after myself.” Deceit pressed his lips together, adjusting his sleeve cuffs. “I _have_ looked after myself this whole time without anyone’s help.”

Roman’s face softened with understanding. “I get that. And, trust me, Snakespeare, I’m not trying to take away that freedom. I… I just want you to know that you don’t have to anymore. I’m here, if you’ll let me be. And so are they.”

“You overestimate them.” Deceit gritted his jaw, hands clenched inside his gloves.

“Dee, will you at least try? Please?” Roman turned his eyes, wide and imploring and lovely, on the other side. “Just try to get along with them, a little at a time. You’ll see what I mean; I promise.”

Deceit made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat, turning his back on Roman.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Deceit hissed, almost to himself, running his hands through his hair.

“What doesn’t?”

“You!” Deceit whirled around, glaring up at Roman. “You, you, you!” He punctuated his words with furious hand gestures before reaching up to tug at his hair again. “You don’t make sense! I’m supposed to be self-preservation, but you–!”

Deceit cut himself off, sinking down and burying his face in his gloved hands. “I don’t get it,” he said, muffled and miserable. 

“I think you’re going to have to explain, Pretty Little Liar,” Roman said, softly, settling down before the other side.

“I’ve only ever done what’s good for _me._ I’m selfish and callow and I don’t give a damn about anyone else,” Deceit said, raising his head and letting mismatched eyes search Roman’s face. “So why do I care how you look at me?”

Roman was silent for a long moment, countless expressions flickering over his face like jolts of lightning – here and gone before Deceit could see anything more than their outlines.

“Maybe you are selfish,” Roman sighed, shifting until he was seated next to the snake, back pressed against the wall, “but there’s nothing wrong with doing what’s good for yourself, or so you keep telling me. Maybe if you keep coming back to me, maybe…” His hand found Deceit’s, resting gently on top. “Maybe I’m good for you, Dee. Maybe we’re good for each other.”

“Really?” Deceit asked softly. “Is a snake, a liar, a dark side, _good_ for you, Roman?”

“I’ve always known what’s good for me. It’s…” Roman sighed, smoothing down a wrinkle on his shirt. “It’s the only thing I’ve never done before.”

“Maybe that needs to change.”

“Yeah,” Roman said, softly, tucking his head onto the other side’s shoulder. “Maybe.”

  
  


Skull-patterned purple socks flung themselves unceremoniously into Roman’s lap, the smirking emo they were attached to sprawling gracelessly across the other half of the couch.

“Do you mind, Gerard Gay?” Roman fussed, trying to maneuver his upended sketchbook back into position.

Virgil shot him finger guns. “Not at all, thanks, Princey.”

Roman snorted, setting his pad aside and rubbing at his stiff wrists. “Did you need something, or are you just here to bask in my regal glory?”

“I definitely needed something.” Virgil stretched luxuriously and opened Tumblr on his phone.

“Being?”

“A footstool.”

“You jerk!” Roman squawked, indigence ruined by his laughter as he shoved at the emo.

Virgil clutched his over heart, trying and failing to hide his grin as his feet insistently wiggled back into place. “Oh no, not being called a jerk. Princey, you sure know how to cut a side to the quick.”

“Quiver before my sharp tongue, you foul fiend!” Roman boomed, resigning himself to his life as a My Chemical Romance reject’s snuggle buddy.

“I’m terrified,” Virgil assured him before swatting at Roman’s hand as he tried to reach for his sketchbook again. “Hey, quit that. You’ve been drawing for hours. You’re going to get carpal tunnel.”

Roman frowned. “Can we even _get_ carpal tunnel?”

Virgil's eyes darkened as he stared melodramatically into the middle distance. “Do you want to risk it?”

Roman slowly pushed his sketchbook away. “Fair point.

“Seriously, though, what’s up with you?” Roman continued, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “You’ve been so… _chill_ lately.”

Virgil just shrugged, picking at a thread in his hoodie. “Hey, you know I don’t like to work. Thomas hasn’t really given me much reason to lately, so” – he made a vague gesture towards himself as his mouth twisted bitterly – “nothing but Tumblr and three am conspiracy theories for me.”

“You could sound less enthusiastic, just for fun,” Roman needled gently.

“I just…” Virgil pushed his hands through his purple hair, hissing out a breath between his teeth. Sometimes, Roman wondered where he got that habit from, but he thought he knew. 

And he knew better than to ask.

“I’m stressed about _not_ being stressed, you know?” Virgil settled on. “Like, I know he’s doing fine, and that it’s a good thing I’m not doing as much as I normally do, but I can’t help but think that I _should_ be doing more, like if I don’t then he’ll decide he doesn’t need me, and I know that’s ridiculous because I’m a bad bitch you can’t kill me, but he’s doing _amazing_ and I just wish…” Virgil bit his bottom lip and shook his head. “Yeah,” he finished roughly. “I just wish.”

He flushed, ducking his head and bunching his sleeves up in his hands. “Shit, sorry, Princey, I didn’t come here to unload all that on you. I just…” Virgil trailed off and mumbled something indistinct.

"I always marveled at your superb eloquence and loquacity, did you know?" Roman teased.

Virgil snorted, an edge of a smile touching his lips as he punched Roman’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“But then you’ll never hear my heart-wrenching monologue about how I know the feeling!” Roman protested.

“Of crippling panic attacks and being convinced random leafs are government surveillance technology?” Virgil shot him a side glance. “Because unless we have _much_ more to talk about than I thought, I’m pretty sure you don’t.”

“No,” Roman snorted, nudging the other side. “Just the feeling of being… pushed aside.”

Virgil drew his feet up and turned sideways, pressed warmly against Roman in silent encouragement. They had learned a long time ago that it was easier for them to talk like this, at least about the important stuff. Pressed side by side and staring ahead, Virgil didn’t have to worry about holding eye contact or gauging facial expressions, and Roman got the warmth and steady support he needed to break down his gold-plated bluster.

“It’s like he doesn’t need me anymore,” Roman managed. “Or, really, he _does,_ but only when it’s convenient. Only when every other task of the day is done. I feel like he’s forgotten what it was like when we were younger, and he would stay up until the stars died out, scribbling out stories and ideas for that novel we always meant to write.”

“I remember that,” Virgil chimed in, a half-smile flickering on his mouth. “Jeez, you two were dead-set on being the next Jane Austen.”

“In hindsight, our regency pieces could’ve used a bit of historical accuracy.” Roman laughed before his mouth twisted up bitterly. “I felt so… _close_ to him then. And now he keeps me quiet. Subdued. Backed into a corner of his mind where I’m so stifled I can’t hardly _think_ until he pulls me out for a half-hour and expects me to work miracles. And I don’t blame him for it, Virgil. I know he’s busy. I love him, and every time I have to feel his disappointment because I can’t do my job right, it just…” Roman broke himself off, and Virgil rested his head on the other side’s shoulder, warm and reassuring. “I don’t know how much longer I can stand it.”

“We’re in the same boat then, I guess,” Virgil rumbled.

Roman huffed out a laugh, resting his head against his best friend’s. “Can’t think of anyone else I’d rather brave the stormy seas with, you tempestuous terror.”

“Likewise, you puffed-up prince.” Virgil was quiet for a moment, worrying at his bottom lip. “You know how much we all love you though, right, Roman?”

Roman shot him a side-glance. “Yeah, of course I do, Rainy Day Real Estate.”

Virgil nodded vehemently. “Good, because if anyone is decei– _tricking_ you into liking them through… flattery, or whatever, you don’t have to put up with it.”

Roman’s face creased with sympathy, and he reached out, laying his hand over his anxious friend’s. “Of course I do, Virgil, but trust me, that’s not what’s happening, okay?”

Virgil’s eyebrows drifted up; he couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice. “Are you sure about that, Princey?”

“Of course I am, Green Gay.” Roman squeezed his hand. “I know your brain likes to tell you differently sometimes, but you’re not tricking me into liking you, I promise.”

“What? Yeah, I know, I– Oh, you thought I was…” Virgil broke off with a frustrated groan, and Roman could almost swear he heard the other side mutter “princey, you fucking himbo” under his breath. 

“You don’t have to deny it, Virgil,” Roman soothed, nestling against the other side warmly. “Brains can be mean, I know.”

“Princey, I…” Virgil heaved a sigh, resisting the urge to hiss in frustration. “All I’m saying is that if anyone is _deceiving_ you, you shouldn’t let them. I know you’re better than to go along with any bad ideas.”

A cold chill ran down Roman’s spine. “But what if it’s a really _good_ bad idea, Not-So Good Charlotte?” He attempted, voice falling just short of joking.

Virgil didn’t know. He couldn’t. How could he?

They had been so damn careful. Roman could practically put on the makeup to cover his hickies in his sleep at this point, and even at the few breakfasts Deceit had agreed to show up to, at Roman’s behest, they had kept their interactions to a painful minimum.

Still, a thick, boiling tar pit of fear oozed through Roman’s chest, kicking up his heart rate and stirring up nausea.

Virgil shifted, staring at Roman’s profile. “You don’t need another side dragging you into bad ideas.”

Roman kept facing stalwartly forward, unwilling to let whatever shone in his eyes be seen. “I don’t mean to brag, Something not Corporate, but I can come up with plenty of bad ideas on my own.” The Arrangement was his creation, after all.

“That doesn’t mean you have to stick to them.”

“You’re talking me in circles here, Stalling in Reverse.” Roman reached for his sketchpad again, willing the methodical outlining of a pair of crossed swords to waylay the shaking of his hands. “Speak your mind, or speak of more pleasant things.”

“You seem to know plenty well what I’m saying.”

Roman scowled. “Don’t you have a boyfriend to bother?”

“Aw, come on, Princey,” Virgil shot him a wry grin. “Sure I’m dating L, but you’re irreplaceable. _No one_ is more fun to bother than you.”

“I’m swooning,” Roman deadpanned.

“You’re deflecting,” Virgil shot back.

“I can do both at once,” Roman assured him. “Really, I’m a legendary multitasker.”

Virgil couldn’t help his huff of laughter – soft and far too fond. “Of course you are.” He worried at his bottom lip, twisting his hoodie strings around his fingers. “I just… I’m here for you, Roman, alright?” He settled on. “No matter what you need.”

Roman couldn’t help but think of the way Virgil had hissed at Deceit, the way his dark eyes had filled with rage that spoke of a history Roman didn’t know the first thing about, a history he didn’t _want_ to know the first thing about. It was far, far too easy to imagine that hate, that distrust and loathing turning onto him as soon as he fell into his place by Deceit’s side; as soon as he took that gloved hand into his own, the family he knew would tear him apart.

“Yeah,” he lied softly. “I know you are.”

  
  


Roman and Virgil didn’t talk about that conversation again, not for a good long while, at least. Roman tried to let himself forget about the suspicion in Virgil’s dark eyes, the way they danced around the subject, so palatable in the air. He tried to let himself believe Virgil was just being odd and cagey, in his typical way.

He didn’t tell Deceit, although he knew he should. Some niggling voice at the back of his head told him that if Deceit knew they had broken rule number two, he would want to end this thing between them; end days of laughter and script readings, end nights of stifled gasps and quiet moans, end star-lit hours of confessions and secrets, so fresh and tender they would be bruised by anything else but a murmur into a friendly ear under the moon’s watchful eye.

So Roman kept his mouth shut, and let his nasty little secret fester in the back of his mind. Waiting for the inevitable time it would make everything Roman loved come crashing down around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2020, everyone! I'm so excited to put on flapper dresses and start calling everyone Old Sport :D
> 
> Thank you so much for all the love and support this fic has gotten so far! Everything up to chapter 5 is completely finished, I've finalized the rough draft of chapter 6, and I've got just under 1.5k of chapter 7 done, so hopefully the story in its entirety shall be done soon.
> 
> I can't tell you how much I appreciate every bookmark, kudo, and especially the lovely comments y'all have been leaving me! You're all seriously the best.
> 
> that being said ROAST ME IF YOU SEE A TYPO, COWARDS
> 
> i carry a torch for you, old sports <3


	4. make worse what was already pretty bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tws: implied sexual content, nudity, alcohol, implied one-sided virgil /logan / remus

Deceit was in heaven.

He sighed, melting impossibly further into the warm water, coated with fluffy, iridescent bubbles. A cool glass pressed against his lips, and he readily accepted, letting light, fruity wine dance over his tongue.

Fingers wound through his hair, massaging his scalp, and he smiled, practically purring in contentment as he leaned into the touch.

“Enjoying yourself, my water snake?”

“Don’t be fooled,” Deceit hummed, turning his head into the curve of Roman’s neck and pressing a kiss to its slope. “‘m seething with rage.”

Everything felt dream-like, hazy, pleasantly filtered through the candle light and the steam and the way Roman looked at him, even when he couldn’t see it. It was a world of skin smoothly sliding across skin; even the more chaste touches were rendered as intoxicating as the wine and twice as addicting.

Deceit gently raked his fangs across Roman’s neck, enamored with the thin red lines that crossed gleaming brown skin in their wake.

Roman chuckled, chest rumbling against Deceit’s back and sending tiny waves splashing through the bath water. “Ah, by the unicorn’s horn, I forgot about how candle-lit baths killed your father.”

Underwater, his hand lazily trailed over Deceit’s thigh, thumbing at patches of smooth scales and sensitive skin.

“A luxury I will never have,” Deceit intoned darkly, lightly plucking the wine glass from Roman’s hand and coaxing him to take a sip. For a moment, he was distracted by the vision Roman made – cheeks flushed from the steam and heat, eyes bright and smiling at him over the glass’s rim, a crystalline sparkle of water falling out of his hair and running down the curve of his cheek – but he shook himself mentally, stealing the glass back and imbibing a bracing gulp. “Now all self-care dates fill me with unbridled wrath.”

_“All_ self-care dates?” Roman echoed, voice light, playful. “I seem to recall this is our first. Has Logan been wooing you behind my back? Have you finally fallen victim to Patton’s charms?”

“Never,” Deceit said before he could stop himself, and Roman startled. It was that raspy, soft voice again, the unwittingly honest one, the one Deceit never knew if he hated or not.

There were a million things he could say here, and he knew them all. He knew what quips to say to make Roman’s head throw back in uproarious laughter, what insinuations would make him press closer and lid his eyes, what soft murmurs would press a blush into his freckled cheeks. Over the past few months – and really, it had only been a few months, although somehow it seemed longer – he had gotten to know Roman as he never thought he could, as he never thought anyone would let themself be known by him.

There was something on the tip of Deceit’s tongue — something raw and real and honest, but he swallowed it down and flashed a smirk.

“Wouldn’t that be boring in comparison?” He settled on instead, attempting to inject good humor back into his tone. “I highly doubt there’s a more epic tale than a star-crossed hero and villain.”

The other side snorted. “Yeah, I – Oh.” Roman looked at him as if he had seen a revelation, eyes slowly widening. “That’s it.”

Deceit blinked. “I totally know what you’re talking about.”

But Roman didn’t even hear him. Something bright, something radiant settled behind his features, and he cupped Deceit’s face in his hands. “You’re brilliant,” he said breathlessly, and the next second, the warm, solid mass of prince Deceit had been leaning against disappeared, leaving him to tumble into the water.

He popped out a second later, sputtering and wiping bubbles out of his sodden curls. He aimed a fierce, resentful glare at Roman, but the other side – who hadn’t even bothered to pull in a robe in whatever fevor had suddenly befallen him –was turned, practically sprinting into the other room, and… well…

It was rather hard to stay mad with a view like that.

“Roman?” He called, voice somewhere between alarmed and perplexed.

But Roman’s voice just came bubbling back, his figure digging frantically through his writing desk. “I’ve got it!” He exclaimed again.

“Sexual frustration?” Deceit groused to himself. “Or is that just a me thing.”

Heaving a put-upon sigh, Deceit slithered out of the bath, wincing as the cold air hit his wet skin. With a quick snap of his fingers, he was dried, dressed, and ready to see what his prince _alarming_ was going off about.

“Smart choice to go in the nude,” he commented dryly, sauntering into Roman’s bedroom off of the white marble en-suite they had been lounging in. “I hear freezing to death is great for getting those creative juices flowing.”

“Hush now, King-cobra-pin.” Roman flapped one hand at him dismissively, groping around in a drawer with the other. “You know you enjoy the view.”

“Slander,” Deceit drawled and snapped the other side onto a plush red robe just to prove him wrong.

Roman, ignoring this entirely, found a quill and held it up with a noise of triumph, quickly wetting it and scribbling on his pad of parchment paper.

Despite himself, Deceit wandered closer, narrowing his mismatched eyes at Roman’s looping handwriting. “Is that…?”

“The brilliant and bold first outline of Thomas’s future New York Times Bestselling novel?” Roman paused long enough to flash a smile up at the other side. “Maybe.”

“A novel?” Deceit blinked. “Oh, right, you told me Thomas was thinking about this again.”

“More than thinking,” Roman emphasized, miraculously talking to Deceit while scrawling something else entirely. “Hoping, dreaming, longing.”

“Over-dramatizing?” Deceit offered dryly.

“Absolutely not!” Roman abruptly put his quill down, turning a stern look on the other side. “Think about queer YA fantasy. Those are just generes, right? Just words cobbled together by syntax.”

Demonstratively, he took Deceit’s hand and pressed it against his own, flat palms touching.

“They don’t mean anything if you don’t make them mean anything, but if you put them together” – he interlaced his fingers with the other side’s, holding him tight – “You get a whole new world. A world of magic and queerness and representation that could have helped when Thomas was still figuring himself out. And maybe it can still help someone who needs it. Put it all together…”

“And they make something even better,” Deceit finished, feeling the weight of Roman’s hand in his own. “I think I get it.”

Roman flashed a wry grin up at him. “I know helping others isn’t really your thing, but…”

“I’ll make an exception,” Deceit said magnanimously. “Just for you.”

Roman smiled up at him, eyes shining. “Thanks.” His expression suddenly shifted into surprised delight, and he made a noise of excitement, flinging himself away from Deceit and back to his notes.

Deceit leaned forward, reading almost as quickly as Roman could write.

_The hero fights bravely against the injustices of the world to protect his family, but is mistaken for a foul villain because of his unconventional methods and the unjust slant laid over him by a corrupt media and the toxicity of online culture…_

Next to him, Roman was muttering to himself, snippets of dialogue mixed in with tropes, mixed in with thinly veiled criticisms of society. “Ooh, and we’ll make the villain a TERF, because fuck TERFs, and…”

Deceit couldn’t help but marvel at Roman, eyes shining brighter than the other side had ever seen, and hands flying frantically over parchment, desperately trying to keep up with his flow of ideas.

“Oh, Thomas is loving this!” Roman practically glowed with delight as his connection to his center strengthened, pulsing and shining with the creative onslaught. “We’re on a roll!”

“What perfect timing,” Deceit said dryly, turning his head so Roman couldn’t see how soft his eyes had become. “Not like we have stuff to do today.”

“Oh, by Odin’s beard.” Roman leaned back, smacking his palm against his forehead. “That stupid contract meeting.” He shook the thought off, glow returning just as soon as it had left. “Whatever. I’ll just get this done before then.”

“That sounds reasonable.” Deceit huffed out a laugh, brushing his thumb across the red spot on Roman’s forehead. “Thomas has always been great with time management in the–”

“And you can help!” Roman chirped, jumping up and herding Deceit outside.

“What?”

“Just don’t let anyone interrupt me, okay, un-Frank Abagnale?” Roman pleaded, practically shoving the other side out the door.

“Yes,” Deceit drawled, “because there’s _nothing_ suspicious about–“

The door to Roman’s room slammed shut.

“–that,” the snake finished lamely.

He sighed, adjusting his gloves, and made to sink out; seriously, what part of Deceit being a selfish asshole did Roman not get? Why would he do _anything_ for the other side?

Unbidden, Roman’s dark, pleading eyes, alight with a flurry of ideas, flashed into his mind.

He found himself coiled up in front of Roman’s door, sullenly flipping through a book on American con artists. Whatever. This was still selfish. He could think of _plenty_ of ways for Roman to make it up to him later.

The snake was halfway through a chapter on the original ponzi scheme when the soft thud of dress loafers drew his attention.

Logan only looked mildly surprised to see him, but then again, Logan only looked mildly surprised when Patton and Roman had a month-long prank war that ended up turning all the water in the house to green jello, so that wasn’t necessarily an indicator of anything.

“Deceit,” he greeted, coming to a stop with his feet at a perfect forty-five degree angle and looking down to consult his clipboard, blue-painted fingertips tapping along to his words. “Thomas has a vital meeting in twenty minutes and forty seven seconds, forty six seconds, forty five seconds–”

“Fascinating,” Deceit hissed. “So glad you informed me.”

“Currently, Roman’s connection to Thomas is unusually strong, so much so that it is negating some of our influence, indicating some sort of creative surplus,” Logan continued, as if the other side hadn’t even spoken. “While I currently cannot make any conjectures about the thought process leading to it, I can deduce that Roman has recruited you to ensure he won’t be interrupted during his time of work.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Deceit yawned, flashing his fangs at the other side. “I’m simply enjoying my favorite book in peace and quiet.”

Logan snorted quietly. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t immediately believe you.”

Deceit couldn’t help but smile. “Heinous. How dare you. Our sacrament of friendship is shattered irreparably.”

Somehow, that made Logan quiet down, something like a frown twisting the corners of his mouth. “I’m not sure if light sides and dark sides are allowed to be friends.”

_“Well, Roman and I aren’t allowed to get to know each other biblically either, but here we are,”_ Deceit didn’t say.

“Not like _you’re_ dating a former dark side or anything,” he drawled instead.

“Yes, well, we all possess our personal peccadilloes.” Logan adjusted his glasses primly. “The key modifier in that statement, however, is former.”

“Trust me,” Deceit said, gritting his jaw and adjusting his sleeve cuffs. “I know.”

“It…” Logan sounded almost hesitant, and Deceit narrowed in on him, taking in the way he cleared his throat, adjusted his tie. “I won’t flatter your sensibilities by saying it was easy for Virgil to join our ranks. It was a hard-fought battle, metaphorically speaking. Still, it’s something I could see replicated, if all parties were amenable.” 

Logan swallowed, smoothing his already perfectly neat hair into place. “And I confess that I could foresee our camaraderie forming quite naturally.”

“Are you… are you saying you’d want to be my friend, if things were different?” Deceit couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice, shock tarnishing his silver tongue.

Almost absent-mindedly, Logan brushed his fingertips across his forehead, where a ninja star had once been hurled. A strange sort of longing passed over his face – sad and soft all at once. “If circumstances were different, I imagine there’s a great many things I would want.”

“Then I suppose,” Deceit said, tightening his jaw and meeting Logan’s gaze challengingly, “it’s a shame they can’t be.”

Logan was quiet long enough that the scales on the back of Deceit’s neck crawled. He resisted the urge to stand, knowing it would only alert the other side to how tense the snake truly was.

“Interesting,” Logan said, eventually, “how you believe there’s no way to be more than what you’ve already become.”

“Just because your little boyfriend shipped off, doesn’t mean that the rest of us are going to turn tail and join your _darling_ brigade of friends,” Deceit hissed, bristling.

Logan frowned. “As far as I am aware, he did not depart the subconscious in a sailing vessel. Additionally, he is far from challenged in terms of size.”

Deceit barely hid a wince. “So glad I know that now,” he muttered.

“Regardless,” Logan continued, shaking his head as if to clear his fog of longing and speculation, “I trust you’ll be able to break the news to Roman of our imminent departure to the studio office.”

Deceit grinned, all fanged teeth and sly eyes. “Hardly a good thing to trust a snake, now is it?”

For some reason, Logan almost smiled when he looked at the other side. “It might be.”

Before Deceit could even begin to figure out how to respond to that, Logic briskly spun on his heel, clipping off to calculate the millionth digit of pi, or whatever it is nerds do in their free time.

With a put-upon sigh, the snake uncoiled, rising and swinging open the red-painted door.

On the other side, his prince sat.

Roman was gorgeous. Deceit had always known that. Anyone with two eyes could know that, milliseconds after their gaze alighted on the prince. He was a vision now, with the sunlight turning the edges of his chestnut-brown hair golden, ink-stains splashed against the sun-tanned brown of his large, elegant hands, a small, contented smile dancing on his pink lips.

Yes, Roman was gorgeous, but more than that, he was _glowing._ It was the purest happiness Deceit had seen on him in a long, long time, as if a chain had snapped and, no longer buoyed down by the weight of the world, he could float up into the sunshine he seemed to be made of, adventuring as he always longed to.

Deceit melted against the door without meaning to, wincing as the hinges squeaked.

“Dee!” Roman lit up impossibly further as he turned and saw the other side. “Everything good?”

After only a moment of hesitation, Deceit smiled thinly. “Nothing to report.”

He closed the door as Roman, humming happily, turned back to his desk. The snake took a deep breath, pressing his forehead against the cool oak wood.

Deceit closed his eyes and pushed a thought through to Thomas.

“Sorry,” Thomas said, cupping the phone against his face as he opened up a new google doc, fingers already flying. He faked a cough. “I’m actually feeling pretty under the weather. No big deal if we go over the contracts some other time, right?”

_~~Rule Number Three: The Arrangement will not interfere with typical duties as sides or any decision-making involving Thomas~~ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sure this will have no negative consequences whatsoever :)
> 
> bla bla bla comments, kudos, feed me validation in exchange for serotonin in exchange for more fics, ect.
> 
> roast me if you see a typo, Cowards


	5. let’s keep kissing ‘til we come to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tws: hypothetical talk of murder, panic attack, self-deprecating talk, and hypothetical talk of abuse and blackmail   
> (a fun chapter for you kiddos :D)

“Never before in my life have I contemplated murder,” Logan said, mildly. “You hold the very unique position of changing that factoid.”

“Save that flattery for your boyfriend, Specs.” Deceit yawned, flicking his tongue out. “Now, what did I do this time?”

The core four sides had summoned him, almost in the middle of the night, while Thomas lay awake, endless thoughts swirling in his head. Under the guise of a luxurious stretch, Deceit let his gaze run over all of them, careful not to let it linger on Roman.

Patton – looking pale and serious without his usual smile plastered on like too-thick makeup. Virgil – eyes dark and shoulders hunched as he stared down the snake. Logan – the rage flashing in his eyes at odds with the clipped, controlled precision of his voice. Roman – trying not to stare at Deceit, jaw working and fingers picking at a stray thread in the stitching of his trousers.

“You had Thomas lie about being sick,” Patton said, softly. “So he missed the contract meeting.”

Deceit pretended to think about it, tapping a gloved finger against his chin. “No,” he eventually drawled. “I think that was the other lying snake side around here.”

“For once in your life,” Virgil snapped, “could you take responsibility for something?”

Roman gritted his jaw and stepped forward, but Deceit caught his eye and shook his head, ever so slightly.

“What I don’t understand is why.” Logan aggressively adjusted his tie, trying to soothe himself with the feeling of silk. “How did that benefit you?”

“Why else do I do anything, Logan?” Deceit purred, practically oozing contentment. “I live to make your lives miserable.”

“Now, kiddo, we know that isn’t true,“ Patton attempted. “We’ve really enjoyed having you at breakfast recently!”

Ah yes, those _delightful_ breakfasts where Roman and Deceit didn’t even dare look at each other, Patton swung wildly between bursts of nervous chittering and tense silence, Logan intermediately made casual, one-sided conversations or read the newspaper, and Virgil glared daggers, twitching for an excuse to be set off.

How could he forget those precious memories?

“Please, Patton.” Deceit rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you leave the lying to me.“

“You don’t understand the significance of this error,“ Logan continued, cheeks and ears burning with the rage shining in his eyes. “The schedule was perfectly calibrated to ensure maximum productivity and completion of Thomas’s goals. Your little falsehood has jeopardized his position and his career.“

Deceit idly arched an eyebrow. “In English, Pointdexter.”

“Thomas isn’t going to be in that movie,“ Virgil said, eyes dark and voice flat.

Deceit startled, turning to the other side with an expression far too earnest for his own liking. “What?”

“They continued filming without him, kiddo.“ Patton wound the sleeves of his cat hoodie around his fingers, frowning. “Waiting any longer would’ve delayed everything almost a week.“

An icy chill spread through Deceit’s veins, as if someone had injected him with liquid nitrogen just to see how long it would take for him to break open. “What?“ He said again. He felt like a broken record, but it was all he could manage. All that could get out past the swirling tempest of his thoughts. “No, they… they said it would be fine if we went on Thursday.”

“Well, ‘they’ were mistaken,” Logan snapped. “We’ve been informed that there will, in fact, be no cameo.”

“We’re never going to be in a movie,” Virgil intoned darkly, huddled up into his hoodie. “We’re going to languish in obscurity for the rest of our short, miserable life.”

“Overgeneralizing,” Logan said, sharpness suddenly drained away as he reached for his boyfriend, running a soothing hand through his hair.

Virgil leaned into the touch as Patton cooed. Despite everything, Roman couldn’t help a sharp stab of jealousy. Virgil and Logan got to express themselves so openly, free from the secrets and veils that obscured what he and Deceit had from the light.

If he went now, to go and touch Deceit’s hand as the snake’s fangs flashed, hands balling up into fists, they’d all hate him.

Still, he almost did it.

“I’m… I…” Deceit was shaking, trying desperately to pull his usual mask of nonchalance over the panic that was starting to creep across his face. “I have a plan none of you could _even–”_

His voice broke, silver tongue shattered as he cut a half-hearted evil mantra off, sinking out before anyone could see the water lining the edges of his eyes.

“It’s going to be okay, kiddo,” Patton said, soothingly. “Virge, both you and Roman are going to be fine.”

“I am fine,” Roman insisted again, just as he had been doing ever since he heard the news. He pressed a hand into his stomach, as if that could ward off the ache that had been building there all day. “I just… I need to go.”

Virgil grabbed his sleeve before the other side sank out. “It was for you, wasn’t it,” he said, low enough that the others couldn’t hear him.

“How do you–” Roman cut himself off, swallowing hard at the intensity in his best friend’s eyes. “I don’t know,” he said, just as softly, guilt curdling in his stomach. “I don’t…”

Virgil nodded once and stepped back, just shaking his head at Logan’s inquisitive look.

Roman sunk out, feeling the weight of Virgil’s dark eyes as they followed him down.

Deceit couldn’t breathe.

His breath came out in small, hitching gaps as he huddled into himself, cape pulled tight over his shoulders, as if that could offer some meager protection from the world. His skin crawled on his bones, uncomfortable and grating. His fingers ran over the red silk ribbon on his wrist, over and over again, but even the smooth slide against his scales provided no solace.

Someone was calling him, but it sounded as if the voice was coming through water, distant and faint.

There was a hand on his chest, trying to steady his breathing, but he shied away, curling up even deeper into himself, eyes shut tight. 

Calloused fingers tapped a pattern again his wrist, a low, soothing voice murmuring instructions indistinguishable beyond the roaring in Deceit’s ears.

 _Four–seven–eight, four–seven–eight, four–seven–eight._

The hand moved to his back, rubbing small circles. He let himself be drawn forward, into strong arms and the smell of drying ink.

Roman.

He was there, solid and firm and sure, rubbing small circles into Deceit’s back, smoothing his sweat-matted curls back from his forehead, murmuring something soft and soothing to try to get the snake’s breathing under control.

And, distantly, in the back corner of his mind that wasn’t screaming he was going to drop dead at any second, there was the analyst Thomas had always counted on – the one that weighted risk and calculated danger. And, as Roman pressed a kiss onto Deceit’s trembling head, that tiny corner of Deceit’s mind knew that everything was fucked. That, no matter how this ended up, his chances were shot. The other sides were never going to trust him after this. He was going down without even the dignity of a graceful landing.

But that didn’t mean Roman had to be dragged down with him.

Deceit snapped back into himself, back into his own body — wet-eyed, cotton-headed, ringing-eared — held in the arms of a man who, by all accounts, shouldn’t even glance twice at him.

“...okay, darling, it’s okay.” Roman was saying, indistinctly, and Deceit felt himself be calmed, felt the smell and the touch of the other side battle back the worst of the storm raging in his mind.

“Are you alright?” Roman said, softly, once his tears had dried, and he could sit up, looking at the other side with something defeated in his eyes.

Deceit huffed out a shaking laugh. “No.”

“You didn’t know any of this would happen, un-common adder,” Roman soothed, reaching out to place a hand on his knee. “It’s not your fault.”

“That doesn’t make a difference.”

“Of course it does.” Roman leaned forward, so earnest it _hurt_ , even as he gently rubbed circles onto Deceit’s knee. “You didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I know that. You know that.”

“Well, Thomas doesn’t.” Deceit hissed, shrugging Roman’s off and standing so quickly he black spots flashed before his eyes. “News flash: Thomas is more important than _either_ of us.” He hissed, shaking as he tugged his cape tighter around his shoulders – a macabre parody of a comforting touch. 

“And I… I _hurt_ him, Roman. I took away something he wanted so, _so_ badly when my entire _purpose_ is to…” He gripped his gloved hands in his curls, tugging until the hair strained against the roots.

“Hey, hey.” Roman spoke softly, slowly. “Deceit, honey, it’s okay. Thomas is okay.”

Deceit shook his head, swaying back and forth. “I _hurt_ him,” he repeated, helplessly. “Roman, how am I… how am I supposed to deal with that?”

“You didn’t know this would happen, danger noodle,” Roman said, rising in turn and going to touch him. “It isn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” Deceit hissed, pushing back and baring his fangs. “I’m here to get Thomas what he wants. Thomas wanted something. I actively stopped him from getting it because I wanted you to–” Deceit cut himself off, forked tongue lashing the air as he hissed. “What part of that _isn’t_ my fault, Roman?” He spat, words dropping with venom. “What part of this is okay?”

“But you didn’t–” It was no use.

Deceit had turned away, shoulders moving with the depth of his breaths as he tried to suppress his rage, his frustration, his self-loathing. “How’d you get into my room anyway?”

Roman blinked. “Um, this is _my_ abode, How to Snake it in America.”

Only then did enough of Deceit’s panicked fog dissipate for him to take in his surroundings.

 _Home,_ he had thought as he sunk out, half-delirious with the panic already choking his throat. _I want to go home._

But he wasn’t in his room with its cool gray walls and secret passageways; he was here, surrounded by Disney posters and playbills and overflowing bookshelves and Roman, Roman, Roman. 

Something curdled in Deceit’s stomach. _Yeah,_ he couldn’t help but think. _That seems about right._

A wry, bitter laugh pushed out of him. “I’m quite skilled at fucking everything up, aren’t I?” 

“Deceit.” Roman put his hand on the other’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure it out, together, alright, Lies and Dolls?”

But Deceit knew. He knew, just as surely as he felt that twisting in his gut, what he had to do.

“Rule five,” Deceit said, softly.

Horror sank low in Roman’s stomach. He snatched his hand back, as if burned. “Dee, what are you saying?”

“We broke one through three.” The snake stubbornly kept his face away from Roman, but every line in his back was drawn so tight he seemed almost ready to snap. “And I broke f– _I’m_ the one who broke most of them. Might as well keep a few intact.”

“We didn’t break number two!” Roman protested, fighting down the tremor in his voice at the lie. “The others, they don’t…”

“Virgil does, at least.” Deceit adjusted his shirt cuffs. “I… lost my temper at that first breakfast, after you sank out. You know how _great_ I am at minding my words when something ticks me off.”

“And he’s probably the worst one to know,” Roman concluded, pain and dread cloying his words. “I… I think he does, actually. I don’t want to believe it, but he’s… said a few things to me.”

“It’ll be fine,” Deceit said, and his voice was strange, horrible; flat and thin instead of silver-smooth lies or soft, rasping truth. “Tell them whatever you have to. Something about me blinding you with flattery or hypnotizing you or just tricking you. They’ll believe that.”

Roman reeled back, as if slapped. “I’m not going to do that! I’m not going to hurl you under the bus, I’m not going to make you out as a villain to the other sides, and I’m _certainly_ not going to break up with you!”

“Yes, you are,” Deceit continued in that flat, horrible voice. He was trembling, body shifting strangely as if it couldn’t decide what to do with itself. “You’re going to go to the other sides, and when they ask what I did to you – because they’ll figure it out, eventually – you’re going to lie. Virgil will lead the whole thing. Go with whatever he says that sounds most likely. Tell them I abused you, tell them I blackmailed you, tell them I threatened you — say whatever you have to. Just… don’t let them blame you, Roman. For anything. None of this was your fault.”

“Look at me!” Roman demanded. “Look at me and tell me you want to end this. Look at me and tell me you don’t want me too.”

“I make it a point not to lie to you.” Deceit didn’t turn, but his head ducked, voice rough and shaking. “Not about the things that matter.”

“Deceit, please,” Roman started, helplessly, but his voice broke before he could get anything else out.

Deceit just shook his head, gloved hands tight. “I hurt Thomas, Roman. I can’t… I can’t risk that happening again.”

His eyes were red-rimmed but clear when he turned around, trembling. “And if it’s a choice between you and him, I can’t guarantee that I’ll always choose him.”

Roman stood, paralyzed for a moment before he gathered the other side to his chest, murmuring into his hair. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry–”

“It’s not your fault.” Deceit smiled bitterly, pulling back, just slightly. “We both knew this was a bad idea.”

Roman managed a laugh, pressing their foreheads together. “Wasn’t it a pretty good bad idea, though?”

“The best,” Deceit whispered, closing his eyes, trying to soak in the feeling of Roman’s warmth, the smell of him, the glow in his chest whenever the other side was near.

“One more kiss,” Roman pleaded, voice hoarse. “Just one more, please.”

Deceit just gave a hollow laugh and shook his head. “I doubt I’ll be able to leave if you do.”

“You don’t have to,” Roman said, and it was almost a sob. “There’s no reason anything has to change.”

“Yes, there is.” A bitter smile settled on Deceit’s lips. “We made those rules for Thomas, but also our own good, Roman. They’d never…” He sighed, swallowing hard. “The other sides wouldn’t listen to you if they knew you were willingly fraternizing with a liar like me. You’re too important to– to Thomas to let that happen.”

“Dee, I don’t–”

“Please, Roman,” Deceit said, softly, cupping Roman’s face in his hands. There was that strange look in his water-rimmed eyes still, something Roman had seen before, but never like this. “Let me do this. Just this once, let me be selfless.”

Something spasmed in Roman’s chest, just short of painful. He didn’t say anything as Deceit pulled away, doing his best not to linger. He didn’t say anything, still processing, as Deceit turned and walked out the door. He didn’t say anything when Deceit paused, gloved hand gripping the door frame, before pushing himself away.

He didn’t say anything as Deceit left and didn’t look back.

Roman was reeling, trying to process the look in Deceit’s mismatched eyes, trying to convince himself he hadn’t seen what he thought he had, trying to convince himself that it wasn’t the same thing gnawing at his chest, filling his lungs, ringing in his ears.

“Oh,” Roman said, with something like heartbreak, before letting himself collapse backwards onto his bed, heart pounding against his chest as he stared, wide-eyed at the ceiling. “Oh.”

_~~Rule Number Four: no falling in love~~ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gently hands you hot chocolate and a fluffy blanket* cry. :)
> 
> no i seriously need your tears to stay young and beautiful so...
> 
> Chapter 6 is like 99% done, just pending editing, but since chapter 7 is only like 25% done (and I think there's a whole scene I have so scrap...), don't expect to wait more than a week for it! I'll just make you do the real waiting for 7 
> 
> In other news, no, I haven't forgotten about Kill the Lights! I've made minimal progress but it's still happening eventually! Plus, I managed to tie together a few plot strands that had really been bugging me, so be excited for that <3
> 
> Thank you all so much for the overwhelmingly positive feedback I've been getting on this fic! I can't tell you all how much I appreciate it. Please don't forget to comment!
> 
> And, as always, roast me if you see a typo, my lovely Cowards


	6. anything more than what I’ve already become

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> contents: mild violence, references to Remus, innuendo and references to sexual situations

Roman couldn’t sleep. The bed was too big, too cold, too empty. His limbs itched with electricity; worries and thoughts, each as unique as a snowflake, whirled in his head like a blizzard.

 _Read to me,_ he used to say on nights like this. And his love would drop a kiss into Roman’s hair and pick up something by Chekhov or Gogol or Katherine Mansfield and narrate stories of reckless people that hate being alone because it’s always themselves they can’t stand being alone with.

The words were dark, but so was the other side’s voice – dark and smooth and lovely against the backdrop of the velvet night. Roman would rest his head against his silver-tongued liar’s chest and listen to the story rumble around, twisting and turning from genesis to denouement until it lulled him into dreamless sleep.

For the past few weeks, Roman had managed to avoid the emptiness of his bed by avoiding his bed, but after a stern lecture from Logan about proper circadian rhythms, here he was, staring at the ceiling and wishing someone was beside him, wishing he could wake Thomas and they could work on their rapidly-developing manuscript, as they had done on the many other sleepless nights, wishing things were different — _wishing, wishing, wishing._

It once was that all Roman wanted was Thomas, his love, his attention, his praise. Yet, now as he stared at his ceiling and _wished, wished, wished,_ he found he wanted someone else entirely. 

He thought he had known wanting before, but this desire, this _longing_ that burrowed into his bones and nestled beneath his skin and made a home in the rush of his blood… this was something else entirely.

Roman shook himself, rolling out of bed and pulling on a robe. It did him no good to lie awake, trying not to think.

His bare feet wandered aimlessly through the halls, carpet tickling their soles. He couldn’t help but replay all the times he had made this same trek hand-in-hand with someone else – eyes shining with mischief, with the thrill of a well-kept secret as they hid themselves away in Roman’s bedroom.

The other side was everywhere; memories of him hid under every innocuous surface and lurked behind the placidly fluttering drapes.

He’d kissed him there once, when the other side had shown up in the middle of a light sides’ movie night, flashing his fangs and saying something vague yet suitably ominous for Roman to leap to his feet and volunteer to chase the intruder away. It was before they broke rule number one, when Roman had no clue what was going on and nothing to guide him except for the tugging in his chest that moved him to push the other side behind the curtains and breathe him in like a drowning man did oxygen.

There was the board game closet, where they found out that, even though the other side was better at chess, Roman could beat him at checkers every time.

There was the music room, where they spent hours with the grand piano, Roman playing and singing while the other side coiled up on the lid, scaled cheek resting on his arms as he quietly listened, offering soft murmurs of praise after every rendition.

There was the gym where they’d had their first kiss (hardly a romantic spot for a first kiss, but sword fights were apparently ‘not to be held in public areas’ or whatever) followed almost immediately by their first time (what? Roman knew what he wanted).

There he was. Everywhere.

As a sort of last-ditch attempt, Roman trudged into the kitchen, only to draw up short. 

“Patton?”

The side in question looked up, a half-smile flickering on his face, before his head dropped back down, staring pensively into a cup of hot chocolate, its heat long-since bled out. Cold-co, Patton would joke if he was in any presence of mind to do so. 

“Heya, champ. There should still be some water in the kettle, if you want tea.”

“I’m okay. Just wanted to… go for a walk, I suppose.” Roman sat across from him, taking in the shadows stamped under Patton’s eyes, the way his copper curls fell limply across his forehead, the untouched state of his coca. “Are _you_ though?”

“Oh, kiddo, you know me!” Patton chirped, sitting up and flashing a plastic smile. “Your happy, pappy Patton is always fine!”

Roman snorted. “I thought we were leaving the lying to you-know-who.”

“Voldemort _is_ good at that,” Patton huffed, slumping back in his seat. “But he’s not who’s got me all _snake_ n up.”

Roman startled. “Deceit?” 

The name almost hurt to say. He hadn’t been letting himself speak it, or even think it, as if that could somehow force the stabbing pain in his chest to scab over.

“What did–“ Roman swallowed. “What happened?”

Patton just shook his head, mouth twisting up into a bitter smile. “It’s okay, kiddo. Nothing you have to worry about.”

“No, Patton, trust me.” Roman leaned forward. “I _really_ want to know.”

“Well…” Patton teetered, chewing on his bottom lip, before he sighed, softening. “Nothing happened, not really. I’ve just been thinking about things a lot. I… I don’t know what to do with him.” 

Patton wrapped his fingers around his cold mug, peering into it as if he was trying to divine the right path forward. “It’s not right to just leave him all by his lonesome, but he isn’t… he isn’t good for Thomas. You saw how he made him miss that movie! I have to protect Thomas, but I don’t want to hurt Deceit, and I just…” 

He groaned, letting his head fall into his arms. “I don’t know what to do,” he said, so softly that Roman had to lean forward to hear him at all.

“Patton.” Roman’s face creased in sympathy. “It’s not your duty to take care of him. Besides, I don’t think he’d even want our help, if he had it.”

“Of course he does!” Patton protested, sitting up. “He just doesn’t know it yet. Or he’s too proud to admit it. Why wouldn’t he?”

Roman looked at the other side for a long moment, jaw working. “Patton,” he said, eventually. “Why do you _want_ to help Deceit?”

“Oh! Um.” Patton startled, blinking and looking down at his hands. “Well, it’s what I should do, isn’t it? He’s hurting, and it’s my job to help anyone who’s hurting. That’s what’s morally right.”

Roman groaned, massaging his temple. “Snakes of a feather, not you too,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Patton,” Roman sighed, “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and… you don’t have to do something just because it’s your ‘job’, or because you feel an obligation. Especially you, Patton. You know why you’re so special to us, Padre?”

Patton shook his head, eyebrows furrowed.

“Because you care.” Roman leaned forward, tapping his nose lightly. “And if you do this kind of stuff without really meaning it, it’s not the same, you know?”

“Not really,” Patton confessed.

“Okay.” Roman breathed out, running his tongue over his teeth. “Let’s say – Logan. If Logan did something illogical, like staying up too late because he was binge-watching Doctor Who, would you think he was doing something wrong? Or if Virgil wasn’t anxious, all day, would he be failing as a side?”

“Of course not!” Patton cried.

“Exactly!” Roman continued, triumphantly. “We’re parts of Thomas. We’re Creativities and Morality and Logic and Anxiety and Deceit, but that’s not all we are. There’s something else in us, Patton. Something right here.” Roman laid a hand on his chest, over the place that glowed every time he thought of Deceit, that swelled when his family laughed, that beat and hurt and tore and loved and kept beating still.

Patton nodded seriously. “Nipples.”

“Well, yes, but actually no.” Roman cleared his throat. “We have hearts. Souls. Names. We’re not just Thomas; we’re individuals too. I mean, Remus is genderfluid, and you’re aro, but none of the rest of us are! We’re more than just titles, Patton. We have names for a reason. Because, above all, we’re ourselves.”

Patton’s brow furrowed. “That sounds like a selfish sort of thinking to me, kiddo.”

Roman smiled, bittersweet. “I’ve been learning lately that it’s okay to be a little selfish. It comes with being human.”

Patton’s eyes shone, bittersweet, as he took in the other side, a small, proud smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. “When’d you get smarter than your old man, huh?”

Roman just huffed out a laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck, thinking of the wicked emo who made him reexamine his biases, the stuffy nerd who taught him respect, the airheaded puffball who showed him how many different types of love there were, and the slimy snake who let him know what selflessness meant.

“I’m a bit of a work in progress, Pat.”

Patton giggled and tweaked his nose. “We all are, kiddo.”

“So I think what I’m saying,” Roman concluded, “is that Deceit will come to us, when he’s ready. If he’s ever ready. And, if-slash-when that happens, we should probably work on that greeting being sincere.”

“Yeah,” Patton sighed ruefully. “I love him, but I should probably get to know him so I can actually start _liking_ him.”

Roman’s eyes went wide. “Wait, what?”

“I… should get to know him? As an individual? see if I can tip the _scales_ in his favor?” Patton giggled.

“You… love Deceit?” Roman’s jaw narrowly avoided hitting the ground as it dropped. “I thought you hated him!”

Patton threw his hands up. “Of course not! I don’t agree with what he does, but he’s a part of Thomas too.” He smiled, the first genuine smile Roman had seen from him in a long, long time. “I love every little bit of my kiddo.”

“Even me?” Roman ventured, half-joking.

Patton giggled, nudging the other side with his shoulder. “Especially you, my handsome prince. You make me a proud papa Pat every single day, champ.”

Roman nodded slowly, suddenly wishing he had gotten tea, if just for something to do with his hands. “Pat, I…” He swallowed, drumming his fingers against the table. “I think there’s a few things I have to tell you.”

And, since Roman is a fantastic storyteller, he fabricated something much more suave and smooth than what he had said, which was more of a ‘ngk’ than witty dialogue, and what he had done, which was staring at Deceit, wide-eyed for a second before kissing him. He started with a kiss and wound his way through a contract and a silk-smooth voice offering comfort and a haze of happy adventures and a conversation that really should have happened while more adequately clothed and a hand on his knee and a spark of inspiration and a lie, unselfishly told for his own, selfish sake.

Patton absorbed it all quietly, hands clasped around his drink, lips twisted up, askance. “Oh,” he said, simply when Roman was done. “So you and Deceit are… together, then?”

Roman smiled, thin-lipped. “Not anymore.”

Patton’s brow furrowed. “Did you break things off?”

“No.” Roman sighed heavily, leaning back and pushing a hand through his hair. “He… he did. Something about being bad for me, and how I should let him be selfless, just this once.”

“Oh,” Patton said softly, touched and disgruntled and disgruntled about being touched. “It’s love, then.”

  
  


“Gotta say, I love what you’ve done with the place.”

Deceit froze at the familiar voice, ringing through the place it had once inhabited. He recovered a second later, movements smooth as he brushed past Anxiety, standing in the living room of the subconscious, just as cool as anything.

“Why thank you,” he drawled, turning to the kitchen sink to fill the tea kettle. While the other side couldn’t see him, he cloaked himself in a quick illusion, banishing the bags from under his eyes, the wrinkles from his clothes, the limpness from his hair. “I was so concerned you wouldn’t approve of the lack of spider webs.”

The scales on the back of his neck prickled as Virgil prowled into the kitchen behind him, perching on what was once his usual spot on the counter. “Wouldn’t be my first choice, but the curtains are a nice touch. The new bookshelves, too.”

“A lot’s changed since you left.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with accusation. The kettle was full. Reluctantly, Deceit shut it off, but he didn’t turn around, just standing there, unwilling to face the other side.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, eventually. “It really has. What’s up with Remus and deodorant, anyway?”

“It’s harder to keep him from acting on his urges when he can’t be anxious about the results.” Deceit’s voice came out flat, unwilling to grace Virgil with the pretty silver lies he was so used to. “Might as well indulge the more mundane ones.”

“Oh.” Deceit didn’t have to turn around to know that Virgil was fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket and chewing on the inside of his lip. “Yeah, that… that makes sense.”

Deceit’s fangs pulsed in his mouth and he spun around on his heel, not quite baring them, but so close he could feel the sharp incisors prickling against his skin. “Cut the crap, Anxiety. What do you want?”

Virgil’s hackles raised, automatically, before he forced his shoulders back down, pushing civility into his expression. “Look, Deceit, I…” He fiddled with the end of his zipper, jaw working. “I don’t like you.”

“Really. Never would’ve guessed.” Deceit rolled his eyes, reaching into the cabinet for a mug and tea bag.

“I don’t like you,” Virgil continued, stalwartly ignoring the other side, “but I love Roman. He’s my best friend, my _brother,_ and I don’t like how he’s acting lately.”

“I don’t see how this has anything to do with me.” Deceit gritted his jaw, not letting his eyes tray from his cup of brewing tea. He really didn’t. Roman was safe from his scaly grasp now.

“I want to know what the hell you did to make him so depressed these last few days,” Virgil snapped. “He’s barely sleeping, he just picks at his food, and he’s buried himself in his work – he’s a fucking mess, and I _know_ its your fault.”

Deceit’s heart wrenched painfully in his chest, but he kept his expression complacent. “Virgil, darling, I’m flattered you think so much of my influence, but I don’t see how a lowly snake like _me_ could corrupt our handsome prince so.”

Virgil shot him a glower, breathing deeply to keep his voice steady. “I know the two of you are… together, Deceit.”

Deceit’s cup shattered.

He hadn’t noticed it slipping from his hands until it smashed against the ground. He fumbed, trying desperately to cover up, to find a lie pretty enough to distract the side before him, but shock rendered him dumb. He had suspected the other side knew, but it was somehow different to have everything in the open, exposed. 

Virgil’s mouth twisted up into a bitter facsimile of a smile. “I don’t think denying it will do you much good now.”

Taking a deep breath, Deceit rolled his forked tongue over his fanged teeth. 

A wicked smirk flashed out from behind his lips.

“Here to give me the shovel talk, Virgil?” He sauntered forward, ignoring the way his shoes crunched over shattered porcelain. “Here to tell me about how you’ll destroy me if I defile your perfect little prince? Here to tell me you’ll put me in Hell if I hurt him?” 

Deceit came to a stop inches from the other side, fangs gleaming. “Newsflash, Anxiety: you don’t have to. I already have, and I already am.”

“I know you made Thomas lie for him, Deceit.” Virgil tilted his head, a silent challenge. “What I don’t understand is why.”

Deceit chucked, a hissing sort of rumble in the back of his throat. “Smarter than you look, aren’t you?”

“Took you long enough to notice.” Virgil narrowed his dark eyes. “Now stop dodging the topic.”

“Oh, it’s because I’m _desperately_ in love with him, obviously,” Deceit drawled, sarcasm dripping from his words. “And I, _sensitive_ soul that I am, just couldn’t stand the thought of the love of my life being pushed to the side any more than he already is. Then, of course, when it all went south, I _had_ to do what was best for him and let the poor dear go.”

Virgil scoffed. “At least bother making your lies believable, Harvey Dense.”

Deceit just huffed out a laugh, ignoring the twisting in his stomach. It was silly, to think that Virgil could still see through him, after all this time. “You always assume the worst with me.”

“I find it saves time.” Virgil crossed his arms. “You hand out lies like Halloween candy.”

“You never had a problem with them before.” Deceit crossed his arms in turn, lifting his chin. “In fact, I seem to remember you–”

“Our past is _our_ past,” Virgil interrupted, jaw working. “It has nothing to do with him.”

Deceit could see he lie, hanging thick and heavy in the air like cigarette smoke, but he shrugged. “Very well then.”

“Just tell me what you did to Roman, and this can be over.”

Deceit shrugged again, leaning against the cabinets opposite the counter where Virgil hunched like a ravenous vulture.

“I didn’t need him anymore,” he purred, and the lie was just as smooth and lovely as the rest of his deceptions were, just as silk- and silver-laden, but it scraped against the inside of his throat, rebelling at the slander. “Just chewed him up and spat him out. Sweet Roman is so _precious,_ but after a while, he can be a bit of a, shall we say, oaf.”

He stretched languidly, lidding his eyes at Virgil, whose countenance was rapidly darkening. “A guy can only stand so much mindless devotion, after all.”

There’s a rule to lying well: simply tell the other person what they want to hear. After a falling-out that would make Caesar flinch in sympathy, Virgil wanted a clear-cut tragedy, a sob story where he could rescue his dear friend from the wicked dark side’s scaled clutches. Virgil wanted Roman to be the forlorn victim and Deceit the merciless villain.

Maybe it was easier for Virgil to leave Deceit behind if he could just convince himself Deceit was wicked, that he was nothing worth feeling guilty over. That he was nothing to regret abandoning. Villains didn’t need anyone, after all.

Which is why it startled Deceit so much when, through gritted teeth and stormy eyes, Virgil ground out a simple “falsehood.”

Deceit’s eyebrow quirked, not betraying the way his heart jerked in panic. “Looks like that nerd of yours is rubbing off on you in more ways than one.”

“Oh, sorry, let me try again.” Virgil leaned forward and spat. _“Bullshit.”_

He sat back with a pseudo-angelic smile plastered over the rage in his expression. “Better?”

“Much, thank you. I was so concerned about your crude branding.” Deceit examined the stitching of his gloves. “Now if that’s all, I’d love to thank you for not overstaying your welcome.”

“I know you, Janus.”

Deceit’s head snapped up, shock plastered over his features. Virgil met his gaze grimly, twirling his hoodie strings around his fingers.

“You don’t let go of people, not when they can still be useful to you.”

“That didn’t stop you from leaving anyway.” Deceit’s voice was rough, brimming with something stronger than upset and gentler than resentment. “That didn’t stop you from taking twenty-three years of friendship with you.”

“We were never friends, Deceit.” Virgil’s hands gripped the counter, white-knuckled, as he turned his face away.

Like Deceit said, it was easier to leave a villain than a friend. 

“But you’re right about one thing. You don’t live with someone for twenty three years and not pick a few things up.” Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t get rid of Roman, not when he could still be useful. So that leaves two options: one, you got bored of him. Unlikely, considering he’s the literal embodiment of creativity. Or two: you…” 

Virgil’s eyebrows knitted together as Deceit’s stomach sank. “You really just wanted to let him go. To do what was right for him.”

“Don’t insult me, Anxiety.” Deceit looked aside, jaw working as he fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves, unaware of the flash of red that shone out. “You and I both know I’m beyond sentiment–”

Virgil’s hand seized around his wrist. Deceit froze. Virgil had moved faster than Deceit could have possibly reacted to; his dark eyes were steely as he held Deceit’s arm vertically in a vice-grip.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Deceit hissed, mismatched eyes flashing. 

Virgil tugged the other side’s sleeve down. A red silk ribbon, embroidered with a golden snake, shone out against the soft, pale scales of Deceit’s wrist.

Virgil smiled, thinly, but there was no joy in it. “Calling bullshit.”

Decent went stock-still, quiet and pale.

“So.” Virgil stepped back, letting the other side snatch himself away and pull together what was left of his composure. “Beyond sentiment, huh?”

Deceit grit his jaw and turned away. “Is that all, or do you want to interrogate, harass, and assault me some more?”

“I just want to know why.”

“Because of this!” Something in Deceit snapped; his words, rough and ugly and _honest_ roared out in a furious rush as he snarled at Virgil, eyes flashing. “Because I knew you all wouldn’t trust him if you knew he was consorting with me. Because I knew that a snake, a liar, a _dark side_ wasn’t good for him. Because I hurt Thomas to give him more time on a creative burst. Because he’s everything good, and you of _all_ people know that I’m the villain of this story.”

Virgil‘s eyebrows drew together as he fiddled with his hoodie’s zipper – drawing it up and down and up again. “So you just… let him go? No strings attached? Without anything to gain?”

“Give the emo a prize,” Deceit droned, pulling his hat low and gathering his trembling arms under his cloak.

Virgil shook his head helplessly. “I don’t understand.”

“Not like there was a whole lot of dramatic lead up to it or anything.” The snake rolled his eyes.

Slowly, Virgil uncurled himself, alone leg hanging down from the counter, the other still hugged to his chest. No longer in his tense, pounce-ready position, he looked so similar to the side in Deceit’s memories that it made something in his chest ache. If he could ignore the purple patches, this could be any moment of thousands where Virgil sat on the counter and looked at him like that, silently asking for a story.

The only difference was that this time, it wouldn’t have a happy ending.

Deceit didn’t tell the whole story, at least, not exactly how it happened. This was because Deceit is a filthy liar who did not want to admit how, exactly, he had reacted to being bested in a sword fight, or what noises he made when Roman pressed the tip of his sword to his neck. This was also because Deceit is a shady, petty bitch who took way too much pleasure in watching Virgil squirm when he went into exaggerated detail for some of the snake and Roman’s more amorous pursuits.

“Under the breakfast table?!” Virgil cried, aghast.

Deceit hid his smirk. “Would I lie to you?”

But, eventually, the story wound through a sword fight and bickering over a contract and the strange feeling in Deceit’s chest when Roman cried and a red silk ribbon and intoxicating secrets and a prince, golden in the sunlight, far too happy to disturb and a lie, selfishly told, for an unselfish sake.

At the end of it all, Deceit looked at him with armored defiance, chin lifted, tense for the next blow.

At the end of it all, Virgil just looked at him with something like wonder, shaking his head.

“What _happened_ to you?”

Deceit smiled bitterly, his bravado seeping away as a hand came up to touch the red ribbon tied around his wrist. “He did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter should be up within a week!
> 
> please comment my brain cells need serotonin 
> 
> and roast me if you see a typo!


	7. when there's love to be found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of the line, folks! Hope you enjoy
> 
> tws: sword fighting, fire, references and mentions of Remus, implied one-sided Virgil / Logan / Remus, implied sexual content, and heavy innuendo

“Fight me,” Roman said.

Of all the words Deceit had let himself fantasize about Roman saying to him, especially after these long weeks of separation, those had been nowhere on the list.

“No,” he said, and slammed his bedroom door shut in Roman’s face. 

His hands were shaking as he tightened them around the door handle, but his resolve was steady. This was for Roman’s own good. 

“I’m going to stand here and be obnoxious until you open the door again,” Roman informed him, voice muffled by layers of paint and oak.

“Oh, no, not obnoxious,” Deceit drawled, pressing his forehead against the door. “Living with Remus has in no way prepared me for this.”

Silence grew thick in the air, but Deceit could almost _hear_ Roman’s coprophagous grin. “Where do you think _he_ gets it from?”

“Well, I was going to say Patton’s side, but-”

**_“FIGAROOOOOOOO!”_ **

Deceit nearly jumped out of his scales at the sudden burst of opera, tragically overdone, with far too much vibrato.

 **_“FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGAROOOOOOOOO,”_ ** it continued so long Deceit began to grow concerned Roman was going to pass out. (Although, he really should’ve known better. Roman had an amazing lung capacity. And no gag reflex. And Deceit was going to stop thinking now.)

“Alright, aright!” Deceit threw open the door.

“Fight me,” Roman repeated, beaming, once he and Deceit were face to face again.

Deceit took a deep breath, reconsidering the concept of love and why it made him want to do stupid things like not punch out this annoying yet somehow endearing prince.

“Well, that’s an opener,” Deceit acknowledged, eyeing Roman’s all-white attire and the mesh mask in his hand. “I believe, however, the traditional statement is ‘hi, how are you?’. Or, if you want to tailor it to the situation, it’s an unending strain of silence, because _we aren’t supposed to be talking.”_

“Which is why I’m telling you to fight me.” Roman tossed a sword at him, and Deceit caught it easily, twirling the blade with a flash of silver and cocking an eyebrow. “You are _exceptionally_ fantastic at avoiding me, Snacc Mamba, so I’ve had to resort to drastic measures.”

“If this whole thing is so unbearable that you truly believe one of us must be slain, I’m more than willing to make an appointment with Dr. Kevorkian,” Deceit drawled, even as Roman laid a touch – burning like fire – onto his arm and sunk them into the gym.

Roman stepped back as soon as they rose up, but the ghost of his touch tingled on Deceit’s skin, even through his layers of clothing, even when he snapped himself into a fencing outfit.

This was the moment Deceit should’ve left, should’ve sunk out and barred his door so Roman couldn’t drag him out again, should’ve said something biting enough that Roman wouldn’t be tempted to.

But something in the way Roman held himself – jaw raised, shoulders squared, eyes set with determination – told Deceit that flight wasn’t an option.

Deceit lowered the mesh fencing mask over his face. Only fight left, then.

Roman forwent the mask, barking out a quick _‘en guard!’_ as his only warning before he threw himself into motion.

Deceit let his instincts take over, throwing fents and parries and thrusts, as his mind raced, running over what Roman’s scheme was, what any of this could possibly mean. Tension coiled in his shoulders as he waited — half anxiety, half hope — for Roman to speak, to reveal himself. 

Yet, the other side‘s face was impassable, set with determination and already glistening with the beginnings of sweat as he mercilessly focused on the fight. The only sounds that filled the air were the clash of steel against steel.

They danced around each other – so attuned to the other’s movements that each motion flowed into the next, so familiar with each other’s bodies and minds that no blow even managed to get close to hitting skin. And, if both of them were careful to pull their hits, if both of them wrestled with a fear of harming the other, even as they twisted and turned though their deadly waltz, they kept it to themselves.

“What is this, Roman?” Deceit snapped out, ducking low to avoid a swipe at his torso, and whirling around to get behind the other side.

“It’s called a fight, many-handed adder.” Without missing a beat, Roman spun around, deflecting the other side’s sword effortlessly. “Not too terribly different from what we used to do, but a bit more modestly dressed, and“ – he smirked –“you’re usually _dual_ wielding.“

“Decided to cut me down to size, then?” Deceit couldn’t help himself from responding, couldn’t help the smile that threatened to touch the edge of his lips. 

He forced his mouth into a scowl, grateful for the mesh mask as he dove forward with increased vigor. Roman couldn’t tempt him if Roman was so focused on the fight he couldn’t speak.

“Darling, you know it isn’t a matter of size.” Roman’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I can take them both no problem.”

“What do you want, Roman?” Deceit snapped. There had to be something else here, some ulterior motive at play. “Last time I checked, exes don’t chit-chat over swordplay.”

“What do I always want?” There it was – the tiniest, slyest smirk dancing on Roman’s lips. He swept his leg out, catching Deceit’s and sending him toppling to the ground. Roman stood over him triumphantly, sword at the ready. “A captive audience.”

“How terribly tragic you won’t find one here,” Deceit drawled. An extra pair of hands wrapped around the prince’s ankles and, before he could react, _heaved,_ sending him stumbling backwards. By the time he recovered, Deceit was on his feet and at the ready. “Try Patton.”

“I talked to Patton, actually,” Roman said, diving forward with a furious remise. “About… all of this. He gets it. I’m not sure if he understands, necessarily, but… he’s willing to try. He _wants_ to try.”

“One down,” Deceit spat, pushing down the wave of hope threatening to rise in his throat as he parried Roman’s lunge. _“Only_ three left to go.”

“Exactly,” Roman countered triumphantly, falling into a riposte. “Only three.”

“Oh, and once they _immediately_ accept us, I suppose Remus will be the flower girl and Logan will officiate, hm?” Deceit hissed, countering with a circle-parry. “And we can’t forget _darling_ Virgil, your best man, weeping tears of happiness.”

“Exactly.” Roman shot him a wry grin over their crossed blades. “I believe you said something about it being a spring wedding?”

“Because I was bullshitting,” Deceit snarled, summoning his strength to push Roman back before switching into a quick offensive. “That’s what I do, Roman. I lie and I make shit up and I play the villain because that’s _who I am.”_

“I know it is,” Roman accepted, easily, nimbly dodging the blows. “But it doesn’t have to be a lie. It doesn’t have to be a fantasy.”

“Roman, stop,” Deceit warned, slowly but surely driving Roman back against the wall.

Roman just glowered back at him, rich brown eyes bright. “Stop what, George C. Snarker?”

“Stop torturing us both with something we’re never going to be able to have!” With a final flash of silver, Deceit’s sword found itself pressed against the hollow of Roman’s throat.

They were frozen there for a moment. Roman held something like heartbreak in his eyes, but a firm set to his jaw, and Deceit, face masked and body trembling with emotion and exertion, joined them by a sword running from Deceit’s hand to Roman’s neck.

“Why aren’t you willing to at least _try?”_ Roman said, softly, letting his sword clatter to the ground. Deceit’s weapon was cool against his skin, but he gazed steadily at the snake without fear, just a plantative sort of longing. “Where does it say in your rules that we can’t be _happy?”_

Deceit ripped off his mask, already snarling. “Because _I_ can’t, Roman. I can’t let you lose everything you have for _me.”_

Roman stood, stunned for a moment. “You…” He huffed out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You really don’t get it. After all this, you still don’t understand how I really feel about you.”

Deceit gripped the hilt of his sword until the pressure was almost painful. “And how is that?”

Slowly, Roman wrapped his hands around the sword, gently guiding it away from himself.

Wordlessly, Deceit let him, but held the sword still at the ready, still between them.

Roman snapped, and a stack of papers appeared in his hands, strung together with a red silk ribbon.

“Look,” Roman insisted, thrusting the hastily-bound manuscript at the other side. “It’s all Thomas and I have been doing lately, and it’s mostly just notes and some scenes, so it shouldn’t take too long– and I mean you don’t even have to read it all, just… just look.”

He should’ve pushed him away, but Deceit found himself summoning an extra pair of arms and silently accepting the papers. The soft shuffling of pages crackled alongside the tension in the air.

It was a good story. More than that, it was fantastic. Even with the cesspool of _longing-guilt-fear-confusion-despair_ churning in his stomach, he couldn’t miss how brilliant Roman’s work truly was. He skimmed over the work, hanging in a strange realm between too tense to read it properly and too engrossed to stop.

The story was far from finished, clearly, still roughly sketched out in notes and vague hopes, but it was painfully apparent how much Roman had poured into it. His passion shone through in every scene, love sketched in alongside each looping word.

It was the story of a hero, except not really. He was arrogant and earnest to a fault and bounded forward head first, trying and failing and trying again. He was convinced he was always right, never seeing what things might look like from the other side. He did what he thought he had to, shoving his own desires down to help others until he was worn to tatters.

It was the story of a villain, except not really. He was sly and charming and hiding glimmers of hope behind his jaded exterior. He was stubborn and fiercely independent, snapping at any helping hand that dared reach out towards him. He did what he thought was best, his way and no one else’s.

It was a love story, except not really. It told the story of two men – both broken but in different ways – colliding with all the grace of a car crash. They fought and bickered and came together, complete by themselves but something entirely new when they didn’t have to be alone anymore.

It was the villain who intrigued Deceit, though. There was something in the way Roman wrote him, the way Roman waxed poetic about his silver-tongue and his cleverness. According to Roman, he was alluring and handsome, with his mismatched eyes and the port-wine birthmark crossing half his face. He was infuriating and difficult and brilliant and–

“Me,” Deceit said, stunned. “That’s… that’s me. That’s _us.”_

“I tried to distract myself from you,” Roman confessed, voice hoarse as he stepped closer and closer. “I tried to lose myself in another world, but every word that I wrote, everything reminded me of you.”

“Roman,” Deceit said, voice threatening to break. “Don’t.”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” Roman insisted, brushing his thumb over the sweep of Deceit’s cheek, heedless of the sharpened sword Deceit still held, threatening to press into Roman’s stomach. “Tell me that you don’t miss me, tell me that we should stay apart, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“I’m not going to change, Roman,” Deceit snapped. “I’m not… I’m not Virgil.”

‘Thank god for that,’ Roman muttered to himself.

“I don’t know what you expect to happen here, but it won’t.” Deceit tore himself away, extra arms hugging himself under his capelette. “I’m not going to be redeemed by the power of true l– I’m not going to be redeemed. I’m not going to change my ways, or join the good guys, or be a crusader for society, or any of that other nonsense. I’m still selfish. I’m still a liar. I’m still a snake in the grass. I’m not soft or innocent or trusting. I’m still going to mess up. I’m going to make Thomas do things for himself and fight tooth and nail against you light sides and be way too dedicated to the villain aesthetic, and I’m never going to _be_ the good guy, or the hero you seem to think I can be.” Deceit smiled bitterly, arms tightening around his chest. “I… I’m still going to be _me.”_

Deceit shut his eyes and turned his head, letting Roman see his scales, his fangs, the strange line of his jaw and the places his gloves bulged to conceal talons, the weapon in his hand. Silently, he pushed aside his armor of silver lies to let Roman see the unrepentant snake he truly was.

It was quiet for long enough that Deceit knew Roman had sunk out.

But when he opened his stinging, water-rimmed eyes, Roman was there, with the chestnut curls Deceit had so often run his hands through, the sun-tanned, freckled skin he had kissed, and a strange, almost bewildered look in those brown eyes Deceit had gazed into during the quiet nights they drank each other in like moonlight.

“Deceit, I know all that,” Roman said, softly. “Why else do you think I love you?”

Deceit stumbled back, mismatched eyes wide and the most joyful sort of confusion running through his mind. His sword clattered to the ground with a hollow ringing. “What?”

Roman took a small, slow step forward, scanning Deceit’s face for any adverse reaction, then he took another and another and another until he was close enough to take Deceit’s hand between both of his and press it to his chest.

“I don’t want a light side,” Roman said – softly, quietly, as if anything more than a murmur could shatter this stained-glass moment. “I don’t want a good guy or a hero.” He shot Deceit a cocky grin and a wink. “I’ve got that covered enough for the both of us.”

Deceit let out a watery, almost disbelieving laugh, letting his hand tighten in both of Roman’s. 

“I want the liar, the trickster, the snake, because all of that is what makes you _you.”_ Roman let out a shaking breath, shifting forward until they were pressed together – foreheads, torsos, legs touching; their hands cradled between their chests like a secret. “I want everything you are and nothing you’re not. I want everything that you're willing to give to me. I want to give you everything I am in turn.”

“What are you _doing?”_ Deceit said, breathlessly. What was he doing, risking his future for Deceit? What was he doing, making Deceit struggle futilely to stand strong against the way Roman was looking at him? What was he doing, saying everything Deceit had dreamed of but never dared pray for?

“You told me to take what I want.” Roman smiled. “But all I ever wanted was you.”

Then he leaned forward and kissed him.

It was simple – two pairs of lips pressing together, so sweetly and so innocently that it made something in Deceit’s chest _ache._ A simple warmth, shared between two bodies. A simple glow, settling into two hearts. A simple joy, singing in two minds.

And, as they pulled apart slowly, it was suddenly all so simple, at least in Deceit’s mind: to love someone could never be wrong.

And he loved Roman. With every ounce of him, he loved.

“Roman, I… you…” Deceit’s words – his weapons, his armor, his defenses – were stripped away by the prince before him, leaving him open.

“What?” Roman nuzzled their noses together, glowing with happiness. “Prince got your tongue?”

Then again, things were a bit more fun when they could both bite back. 

“My tongue?” Deceit hummed, toying with a lock of Roman’s hair as he laced his fingers together behind the other side’s neck. He let his forked tongue loll out past his chin, then extended it a few more inches, just to see the way Roman’s face colored.

“Not with that sass he doesn’t.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Roman gulped hastily. “I’ve never said anything ever. I’m shutting up now.”

“That’s what I thought.” Deceit smirked before his expression softened, gaze falling to the ground as his thumb rubbed circles on Roman’s nape. “You know, don’t you?”

“Know what?”

“That… everything I did. Every time I lied or schemed or fought, I…” Deceit shook his head, voice soft and raspy as he tucked his head into the dip of the other side’s shoulder, unwilling to meet his eyes. “It was for you. Surely you must know it was all for you.”

Roman startled. “What?”

“I fight for what Thomas wants,” Deceit said, simply, studying the ground between their feet. “His hopes and dreams. For you.”

Roman’s voice was thick with tears when he responded. “Was it really for me?”

“Of course it was.” Deceit could feel his own eyes fogging over as he shrugged and managed a smile, looking up and catching Roman’s eye as he said perhaps the most honest statement of his life, “I love you too.”

Deceit had never really liked telling the truth, but the face Roman made was worth it a million times over.

“You know,” Roman said, between peppering the other side’s face with kisses, “I think this calls for a celebration.”

“Yeah?” Deceit managed, a little breathless as he curled his fingers in Roman’s belt loops, tugging him closer. “Any bright ideas?”

Roman’s brown eyes lit with mischief. “I’ve got just the thing.”

  
  


“Do you have everything?”

“Of course I do, Sly Montag. It hasn’t been that long.”

“You weren’t tempted to do it without me? Thinking of me?”

“Doesn’t feel as good without you, Corn-y snake.”

“Well hurry up and put it in! I don’t want to wait.”

“This is a moment of great import! It deserves all due gravitas.”

“Literally all we’re doing is burning a piece of paper.”

“It’s symbolic!” Roman stuck his nose in the air, fighting down a grin.

“Oh, well in _that_ case,” Deceit drawled. “Far be it from me to get in the way of your bildungsroman, Roman.”

Roman snorted, gently putting The Contract into an old metal barrel, then fished a book of matches out of his pocket.

Deceit stood beside him, glaring at the paper. “We let that stupid little thing have so much control over us. Makes _total_ sense.”

“Not any more,” Roman said, offering him a match.

The other side took it, arching an eyebrow down at the barrel. “Any last words?”

Roman threw his voice into a high, quivering falsetto. “No, please don’t do this! I have a family!”

“Well, you should’ve thought that through” – he cast a look at Roman – “before you kept me away from someone I love.”

Roman leaned against him in a haze of warmth; together, they struck their matches and let them fall.

The paper caught almost instantly, the edges curling into itself like a well-kept secret as they blackened, fading away to ash. A bright, brilliant blaze flickered, sending off soft puffs of smoke.

“Fine,” Deceit sighed. “I see the appeal.”

“Actually, this was Remus’s idea,” Roman admitted. “He woke me up in the middle of the night by dropping slime on my face, and when I looked up, the words ‘burn the contract and bang him, fuckstick’ wrote themselves in blood on my ceiling.”

“I knew he wouldn’t approve,” Deceit drawled, fighting to hide his smile.

“We probably should’ve just told him,” Roman admitted with a wince.

Deceit snorted, nestling closer into his prince’s side. “There’s a lot of things we should’ve done.”

Roman laughed, softly. “We’re kinda terrible at this whole ‘being boyfriends’ thing, aren’t we?”

“You mean legally binding contracts aren’t a typical courtship behavior?” Deceit mock gasped, throwing a hand over his mouth. “Darn. And I thought I was doing so well.”

“You are,” Roman promised, pressing a kiss into his hair. “You’re the most amazing thing I could’ve ever hoped for.”

Deceit hid a smile behind his gloved hand. “Don’t get sappy on me, Princey.”

Roman looped an arm around his waist. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Deceit rested his head on Roman’s shoulder, and, together, they watched their shackles burn.

_~~Rule Number Five: in the event of more than two of the above rules being broken, The Arrangement will be automatically terminated and all contact between the two parties involved will cease~~ _

  
  


“Are you sure about this?” Deceit asked, for possibly the millionth time. “Because we really don’t have to. Seriously, it’s fine.”

“Of course I’m sure,” Roman responded, for what was surely the millionth time. “It’ll be fine, Caped Cobra.”

“Okay.” Deceit hissed out a breath between his teeth, squeezing Roman’s hand. “Okay.”

“Only if you’re sure though. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Roman waggled his eyebrows. “Consent is very important in these situations.”

Deceit couldn’t help his laugh. He fell forward, burying his face in Roman’s shoulder. “You’re terrible,” he murmured, softly, tenderly.

“I learned from the best.” Roman pressed a kiss onto his boyfriend’s forehead.

Deceit hummed and tilted his face up, catching Roman’s lips with his own. The other side made a soft noise of happiness, cupping Deceit’s face, sweetly brushing his thumb over the area where scales and flesh faded together.

“Cheater,” Deceit murmured between soft kisses. 

Roman smiled into the kiss. “All’s fair in love and war.”

“Oh?”

Deceit wound his gloved fingers through Roman’s hair, tugging just hard enough to make the other side gasp. He licked into Roman’s mouth, tasting honey and peppermint as the prince’s toes curled.

Just when Roman was pressing forward, intent on pinning the other side up against the wall, Deceit ducked under his arm and slithered free.

“Guess we better go now,” he teased, voice low and purring.

“Now I’m not sure I want to,” Roman cajoled, leaning forward again.

Deceit flashed that fanged grin up at him, mismatched eyes lidded, and ducked out of the way just in time for Roman to overbalance and topple forward. By the time he stumbled enough to catch himself, Deceit was already halfway through the door, flashing a smolder over his shoulder.

For not the first and far from the last time, Roman wondered if, in a past life, he had committed a grievous sin or a saintly bit of benevolence for this to be his luck.

“Sorry I’m late,” Deceit was purring as Roman stepped in behind him. “I was doing things.”

Roman stepped forward, and, with the eyes of his family on him, took Deceit’s hand. “I’m things.”

Patton’s face turned the approximate shade of Roman’s sash as he choked around a bite of biscuit.

From across the innocuously set table, Virgil sat – quietly and impassively taking in their joined hands.

Beside him, Patton was sputtering and Logan was making a noise of confusion over his newspaper, but he didn’t seem to register either of them. Beside Deceit, Roman was laughing and saying something, but it was muted, muffled.

Virgil had been right, before. You don’t live with someone for twenty-three years without picking a few things up. So Deceit knew exactly what Virgil meant with the small, almost infinitesimal nod of his head as those dark eyes met his mismatched gaze. _Take care of him._

Slowly, discreetly, Deceit nodded back. _I promise._

“Well,” Patton coughed, safe from death by baked goods. “Certainly an… unusual way to tell us about you two kiddos, but I sure am happy for you.” He flashed a small, nervous smile as they sat down at the table. “Guess this means things are going to be a little different around here now, huh?”

“Maybe,” Deceit said, in the soft, raspy voice – the one barren of silver lies. He was never sure if it was his real voice or not. 

Roman’s thumb ran over his knuckles, their hands linked on the table top, and hesitantly, Deceit smiled; it was a small, wisp of a thing, but it was there. “But I think it’ll be for the better.”

Patton’s expression shifted, turning just a little softer, just a little more sincere. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I think you might be right.”

“I’m just glad to have my suspicions about Princey’s bad taste confirmed,” Virgil teased, nimbly dodging the playful kick Roman aimed at him under the table. “Seriously, who did you two think you were fooling with that first breakfast stunt? Anybody but a complete idiot could figure out you two were dating.”

 **_“Wait.”_ ** Logan slammed down his newspaper, eyes wide as he pointed at Roman and Deceit. **_“YOU TWO ARE DATING?!?!”_ **

  
  


Later, Deceit coiled up in his chair, smirking. “If we’re being audited, I feel I should tell you I don’t pay taxes.”

“Oh by the talon of the griffin!” Roman gasped, throwing a hand over his mouth. “You absolute villain!”

“Leave your foreplay out of this, or at least have it make sense.” Logan, from behind his sleek chrome desk, shot them both an unimpressed look. “As fictional figments of Thomas’s mind, we neither have need of monetary evaluations–”

“That’s what they want you to think,” Deceit muttered venomously.

“–nor do I hold any authority as a representative of the Internal Revenue Service office.” Logan laced his fingers together, considering them. “This meeting is to serve as a simple baseline, shall we say, to establish ground rules going forward, in order to prevent any… unfortunate mishaps, as previously occurred.”

Deceit didn’t visibly flinch, but Roman felt him tense; the creative side squeezed the hand intertwined with his, rubbing small, soothing circles with his thumb.

“As such I have devised a series of regulations and counter-checks, to adequately mitigate any potential biases, when it comes to decisions on Thomas’s behalf.” Logan lit up, almost wiggling in his seat as he summoned two crisp manila envelopes. “If you care to look inside your dossiers, you’ll find I have carefully drafted up individualized contracts–”

 **_“NO CONTRACTS!”_ **Deceit and Roman yelped simultaneously.

Logan startled back, eyes wide. “O-kay,” he said, slowly. “I wasn’t aware Roman’s disregard for order applied to both of you.”

Roman recovered first, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that, Captain Ne _rd_ mo. We just, um. We’re about as far over contracts as the kraken is under sea level.”

“Oh, you mean more emotional torture and moral dilemmas _doesn’t_ sound like fun to you?” Deceit drawled.

“Noted and accounted for,” Logan sighed, snapping the contracts away with a disappointed twist of his mouth. “Very well, then. I suppose a simple verbal transaction will suffice.”

He cleared his throat, turning a stern gaze on both of them. “Do you both solemnly swear to keep all decision-making involving Thomas to a group consensus, as opposed to a rogue agent’s impulse?”

“Depends,” Deceit drawled, voice lazy but eyes sharp. “Does it mean you all are going to _actually_ listen to me?”

Logan had the decency to look abashed. “I’ll confess, I’ve always been… uncomfortable with the way the light and dark sides have interacted in the past. I, for one, have always welcomed your input, and I sincerely believe that Virgil and Patton will likewise put in a sincere effort to reach compromise, rather than discord.”

“Hm.” Deceit’s posture didn’t change, but Roman could see the small, glowing ember of happiness in his eyes. “I suppose I don’t disagree.”

“I, too, shall uphold this sacred vow,” Roman intoned. “Far be it from me to incite chaos between my love, myself, and my family.”

“Very well then.” Logan sat back, satisfied.

“Fun chat,” Deceit drawled, holding out his arm for Roman and starting to sweep the two of them away.

“Additionally, if I may…” Logan’s voice, soft and almost shy, stopped them before they crossed the office’s threshold.

“Yeah?” Roman’s brown furrowed when he turned and saw the way Logan was fidgeting, tugging on the end of his tie. “Everything good, Specs?”

“What? Oh, yes, I merely, um…” Logan swallowed hard, straightening up. “Seeing as the two of you represent factions of light and dark sides, I’m simply curious as to how you think the dynamic between the two groups shall change. If those relationships shall become… normalized.”

Deceit considered him, forked tongue flicking out. “I think it’ll be easier now. If, say, you’d ever like to come by and visit.”

Heat crept up the back of Logan’s neck as he fiddled with his pen – elegant and fountain-tipped, with a sleek, acid-green barrel and blood-red ink. It had been a gift. He kept his gaze carefully on it, away from Deceit’s sharp eyes.

“I have no personal gain in the matter. I was merely inquiring from an objective, scientific standpoint.”

Deceit softened with what someone could mistake for sympathy. “I’m sure.”

“I feel like I’m missing something here,” Roman confessed as, arm-in-arm, they swept from Logan’s office and into the hallway.

Deceit just huffed out a laugh and kissed his cheek. “Not my secret to tell, my prince.”

  
  


Even later (days and weeks and months later, in fact), cool arms draped around Roman’s shoulders, a solid presence leaning against his back. “Have the writing gods released you from their thrall yet?”

Roman laughed, even as he scribbled a few lines. “They demand a few more days of sacrifice, I’m afraid. The publishing house wants the final draft next month, but I still have to run it by Remus and Logan.”

“Oh, _no.”_ That lovely, purring voice bemoaned. “Guess I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go, then.”

“What do you–?” Roman only managed a half-turn before his brain short-circuited. “Ngk.”

“Eloquent as always, my handsome prince.” The wicker basket in Deceit’s hand knocked against the black skirt of his yellow-trimmed sundress. “Is it any wonder you managed to seduce me?”

“Hhh,” Roman espoused.

With his sun hat, puffed dress, and elbow-length gloves, the other side could’ve been the poster snake for innocence, if not for the wicked smile curling his lips.

“I was hoping we could go into the imagination,” Deceit purred. “Have some _fun_ together, but I guess not.”

“I mean I can definitely stop for a bit,” Roman stammered.

“No, no, no.” Deceit rolled his eyes. “Far be it from me to tell the love of my life to take a break when he’s been hunched over a desk for eight hours.”

He sighed, forlorn, even as he slithered around to pull himself into Roman’s lap.

Roman’s eyes went wide when he felt what was under Deceit’s skirt. Or, rather, what _wasn’t._

“Actually, I think it’s ready for Remus now.” With a snap of his fingers, the thick manuscript disappeared.

This snake didn’t even bother biting back his smirk as he slithered to standing. “That’s what I thought.”

“No need to be so smug, Clark Snakely,” Roman groused, even as he accepted Deceit’s hand and stood. His back let out a series of pops in a very impressive impersonation of a Fourth of July celebration. “Actually, you might have a point.”

“I always do,” Deceit said airily, scooping down to grab his picnic basket and tugging Roman towards the gold-gilded door to the imagination. “How’s lunch sound? I was hoping we could admire that new beach you put in, and I only poisoned one of the sandwiches.”

“So I’ll be getting mouth-to-mouth either way?” Roman looped his arm through the other side’s, swinging open the door. “Sounds perfect.”

(It didn’t go _perfectly,_ of course. When did anything with the two of them ever? Sand got everywhere, and Deceit made Roman laugh so hard soda fizzled out of his nose, and Deceit got distracted for nearly half an hour, cooing over a brood of baby snakes.

But that was alright. It was only one of countless sunlight-painted afternoons that would mark their future, one of countless moments spent, warm and sated and happy, curled around the other, one happy day out of many, in the life they built together. They would never have ‘perfect’, but that didn’t matter when they had each other.)

“And what does your evil scheme dictate comes next, Snake my day?” Roman teased as they stepped into the golden sunshine. “I take it you have something planned after that.”

“After that?” Deceit leaned in and kissed him softly, smiling into it. “Absolutely anything we want.”

“Huh,” Roman hummed, nestling into his side with a grin. “Now there’s a good idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty funny how you intend to write a fun little drabble based on a waitress song and you end up with a nearly 20k beast that you wrote in like three weeks because Roman and Deceit don't know how to shut up, huh.
> 
> also hey I don't think I'm done with this 'verse? I really like the dynamics and lore I've established here, and I'm considering doing a Logan-centric sequel where he struggles with his feelings for Remus, what that would mean for his relationship with Virgil, and the continuing shift in dynamics between dark and light sides. lmk if that sounds interesting! (actually, my brain is telling me we're going to do a whole series in this 'verse based on various waitress songs so who knows whats up.)
> 
> Also, I'd like to shout-out the wonderful @caffeinated-cryptid on tumblr, for the adorable fan art you can find [here](https://caffeinated-cryptid.tumblr.com/post/190264804869/i-guess-im-a-impatentpending-fan-art-blog-now-go)! Additionally, thanks to @shut-it-nerdywolverine for an awesome spotify playlist you can find [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/95bft1dra8n79aoufpk88ii80/playlist/3O7WVB27OkpcXn2lcGwUb0?si=PfniKDSFRaGRz25GM_0q-g)!
> 
> Finally, thank all of you so, so much for the overwhelming positivity and support I've gotten on this project! It means so much to receive such thoughtful, kind feedback.
> 
> roast me like a dead contract if you see a typo, Cowards


End file.
